War of Dominion
by HB rules
Summary: Something is coming. Something is warning Constance, invading her dreams to threaten the beginning of something dangerous and mysterious that could change the world forever. Last chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone, this is my second ever ff so be kind :) **

**I wasn't sure whether to publish this, but as I did anyway just to gauge the reactions. May not be as quick updating this as my other story XD but would love to hear your responses to inspire me as I only have a rough idea of where this is actually going :)**

**Hope you enjoy this and the link to review is where it always is! Would really appreciate some feedback as I am not sure what it's like in terms of, well, goodness!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 <strong>

The night was the darkest of blacks, the starless sky like a void reaching into never ending nothingness. The waning moon watched over the dormant Earth, hiding behind the darkness of the sky as though waiting for something to appear. The trees shuddered as a gush of strong, cold wind fingered the baron branches and carried leaves against their will from the forest floor swirling into the stagnant air. The clouds had run from the sky, scared of the bringing of night as if they knew what was to come; perhaps not now, not that night, but one night and one night soon.

A castle lay ignorant between the trembling trees, a building of grand grey stone with turrets reaching to the heavens and a high wall keeping its secrets locked within. An owl hooted softly in warning and flew, flew as far away as it could. The night was eerily still once more, nothing daring to break the silence in fear of repercussions. Could the girls sleeping soundly in the castle not see what they saw? Could they not feel the suffocating tension in the air? Something was coming.

Xxx

The face was haunting, its eyes black and lifeless like the devil's yet with a glint of something unknown glinting there, mocking her with the delight it symbolised. Suddenly, there was fire; flames danced around her and licked at her heels, chasing her through the darkness and surrounding her body. The heat was so intense it burned, no, it seared her skin and she screamed out, but her voice was caught in her throat. As the flames enveloped her soul, dragging her down into the depths of chaos, everything became a thick fog choking her until...

Constance Hardbroom woke with a start. The dream had been so real, so vivid, that her skin still felt as though it was being blistered by the scorching flames and her head pounded as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of her bedroom. She rose immediately, embarrassed to find her forehead dripping with perspiration and her throat aching from crying out in the night. She always kept enchantments surrounding her room to ensure privacy, and she prayed that the sound barrier she had set up would prevent any shameful confrontations with the headmistress.

Walking into the bathroom, she tied her waves of curly dark hair in a loose plait to keep it from her face and flexed the fingers of her right hand subconsciously. She needed not to utter the words of a spell to conjure a glass of water before her and she drank deeply, trying to shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Even now flashes of the dream reappeared in her mind; more, she feared, than simple recollections. Nothing scared her, she could say that with confidence; well... almost nothing.

The clock on the wall read 2:40 am, and she knew that there was no point in returning to bed. Sighing, she sat at her desk and rubbed her sore arms without a thought. She wanted to dismiss the dream, to brush it off as stress or memories from her childhood; but she was too intelligent for that. It was then that she noticed something, the slightest patch of red, tender skin on her left forearm. It had to be a coincidence, there was no way her dreams could have manifested into reality; yet Constance did not believe in coincidence. Her quick, calculated mind could not allow her to believe in such things as fate and chance and it was then she drew her first conclusion; it was not a dream, but a warning.

As she dressed in the usual long, black dress she wore every day to work as the potions teacher and deputy headmistress of Cackle's Academy, meticulously pulling her wild hair into remission, she knew that the empty sensation pervading in the pit of her stomach would not leave her as the images would. Her mind was racing, a thousand possibilities playing out in her mind like a series of theatrical performances, but there was nothing she could find comfort in to explain the nightmares. There was one chilling aspect of the experience of which she was so unwittingly sure of, however; something was wrong, and something was coming.


	2. Chapter 2

**I have pondered over this chapter for literally two days and it has been quite difficult to write. Would appreciate feedback greatly so please review!**

**I think I know where I'm going with the next chapter which should, theoretically, be up soonish :) Have to write it first though...lol!**

**Enough babbling, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Morning broke with its usual distinguished beauty, weak golden rays of sunshine defying the barriers of blackness to illuminate the world and provide warmth to the people who inhabited it. With the terrors of the night passing on, birds dared to sing a cautious tune and the sun began its triumph over darkness, rising above the horizon to become a glowing beacon of hope and prosperity.

Constance had been awake for hours already, carrying out the monotonous tasks of preparation and organisation which would allow her day to run smoothly. She had every moment planned, her obsessive need to be in control exposing itself in everything from her work to the way her posture never failed to be anything but perfectly straight; not one element of her appearance was distorted by impurity.

The afflicted mark had disappeared from her forearm and although reason told her that it was probably a figment of her imagination, formed during the hazy transition from the world of dreams to the grip of reality, she knew that this was not the case. She wanted to believe that her mind would play cruel tricks with her perception, though this had never happened before, so why would it now? She had felt the coarse, raw skin beneath her fingers, even flinching slightly in surprise at the spasm of pain that had flared through her veins at her own touch. No, it had been there all right, but there was no way it could have been caused by the dream; it wasn't possible, so it could not be true.

Constance had given much thought to the dream that had so unwelcomingly invaded her slumber, but whether it was a warning or simply a nightmare she could find no meaning in the things she had seen. Frustrated, she had been forced to dismiss the matter in favour of more useful pursuits and decided that it was not a matter worth pondering over.

That's what she tried to tell herself, at least. She couldn't banish the feeling of looming dread that sat in the very corner of her thoughts; a little voice, barely audible, chanting softly to her like a mother singing a lullaby to a sleeping child:

_Something is coming_

Xxx

Miss Cackle sat in an armchair before the fire, its talons snapping and crackling as it consumed the wooden logs as food for its menacing heat. The morning was crisp but cold, with a thin layer of frost giving the ground outside the castle a pearly glaze. Constance Hardbroom strode into the room, the typical air of confidence she emitted stealing Amelia's gaze for a moment as it always did. There was something about her demeanour which meant you could not ignore her, even if you tried. She was more than a force to be reckoned with, but a source of power and authority, even as only the deputy headmistress of the school.

However this morning, there was something in the way that she moved around the room, keeping her hands occupied with shuffling books or tidying papers, which told Miss Cackle that there was something on her mind. She dared to ask...

'Constance? Are you all right?' Constance's head snapped up and she turned to the headmistress with a look of disgruntled confusion. She disliked the question intensely, the hint of her own weakness like an insult to her character.

'Perfectly, headmistress. Why do you ask?' Her tone was sharply inquisitive and Miss Cackle wished that she had not forced the matter. Now she was in limbo, waiting to be put back in her place like an ignorant child.

'Nothing, nothing; I simply noticed you look a bit, well, worn this morning.'

It was true. Her eyes were still as sharp and penetrating as they had ever been, reaching straight into the depths of Amelia's mind to scold her intrusive nature, but she could not hide the dark circles hanging drearily beneath them.

'Am I not allowed to have difficulty sleeping? Does there _have_ to be something wrong for that to happen?'

Her tone was defensive, angrier than Amelia had anticipated. Constance needed to be seen infallible, no matter how she truly felt. She needed for people to see that she was never wrong, never ill and never vulnerable because if she wasn't above those things, then who was she? To the girls she taught, she was untouchable and exempt from the aggravation of emotions which held others as prisoners to their souls.

Miss Cackle knew that she would never understand why this woman had to be free of weakness, an integral part of human nature which lies at the very heart of who we are. All she knew was that the cold, unyielding barrier Constance kept around herself was not about to be toppled by a question of her wellbeing.

But even the strongest of hearts can be broken, thought Amelia.

Constance could feel Amelia's stare, questioning and pensive, as she turned back to the work she had been organising on the table. No-one had ever been able to understand her and that was the way she liked it. Her nature was her own, her mannerisms a product of her strict tuition as a child and she despised others trying to dig down into her heart for an explanation of her ways.

Miss Bat burst from her cupboard at 8 o'clock sharp, humming a bright lyrical tune as she danced around the room without a care in the world. Constance restrained the cutting remark forcing its way to her lips and began to make tea, not at all in the mood for an argument with Davina.

'Morning,' said Miss Cackle, picking up the paper folded on the coffee table before her.

'Good morning headmistress!' Constance often wondered how it was that the chanting teacher was so enthusiastic; after all, it was just an ordinary day.

'Are you all right Constance? You look tired.' She couldn't take the questions any longer and folded her arms, vanishing on the spot leaving a sense of anger biting in the air left in her wake.

She reappeared in the potions laboratory, her safe haven amongst the anarchy of life at the academy. At this time in the morning, the girls were all down at breakfast and the other teachers busy preparing in the staffroom; she could be alone. Constance closed her eyes, counting in her mind until she felt the tension leave her body. She needed to brew some more wide awake potion and waved her right hand seemingly carelessly, causing a cauldron to appear on the front bench with a roaring fire swirling beneath.

She added the ingredients slowly, the concoction emitting wisps of lightly perfumed smoke which circled her head, stroking her cheek like the lover she would never have. It was her form of relaxation, the only time she could let the anger and stress melt away from her being and think of nothing else but therapeutically stirring the viscous liquid which bubbled before her.

When it was ready, Constance turned to select a beaker from the cabinet. She couldn't know why but the room went suddenly cold, her breath appearing like grey fire from her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat, every instinct telling her to run; but she didn't. She turned slowly on her heel to a sight that caused the beaker to slip from her hand and shatter, the glass exploding into a thousand pieces as it collided with the floor and the sound it emitted like a piercing scream flashing through the air. The cauldron's smoke had turned the crimson red of blood, and through the mist she could see a face, that face. The face that had imprinted itself in her mind and the eyes that bore deep down into the essence of who she was, like a knife twisting cruelly in her chest, was staring at her; and it smiled. The smile was gruesome, the corners of its mouth twisting upwards and cracked lips forming what could only be described as a look of menacing pleasure.

Constance closed her eyes. She counted slowly to ten, her heart pounding like a drum against her fragile ribs, but for the smallest fraction of a second she heard it. The laugh that echoed in the deepest realms of her mind as like nothing she had ever heard. It was everything that was wrong with the world, all the cruelty and evil amalgamated in one callous sound.

Opening her eyes, the laboratory was as she had first seen it; no voice, no cold, no face. For a moment she scolded herself. She had read endless volumes of how the mind can manipulate the surroundings from the power of suggestion, and assumed that after her dream hers was doing the same; but that laugh. It wasn't anything she had ever heard, nothing she could even manage to describe with the restricted babblings of the English language, and the fear which had pierced the chambers of her heart had been more terrifyingly real than she would have liked to admit. It was a feeling, one of dread and fury and madness, which it instilled upon anyone who heard it. Constance wondered, was she going mad? Was this the first hallucination of the long, dark decent to insanity? The thought was too chilling for even her to comprehend, but the significance of its meaning haunted her as she cleared the shards of glass from the floor and prayed for some release from her own tainted thoughts.

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><p><strong>XD Please review :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay (well, it was only a few days but as those who are familiar with me will know that is like a lifetime for me!)**

**I wanted to get this chapter perfect and I think I have got it as good as it is going to get - so enjoy! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

A pool of blood rippled, the ringed waves expelling from the centre and reaching out to the corners of its domain. The ground was soft beneath her feet as she ran, gnarled arthritic hands clawing at her from all angles as she tried in vain to vanish them with her magic. She came, as always, face to face with the monster. It laughed, a sound that could crack the heavens with its malice and bring everything crashing down to nothing, knowing there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. He loved how she tried to fight, the firm desperation in her eyes an accolade to his power; it was all too easy.

He took the magic from her with the simple beckoning of his hand, smiling as he saw the streams of colour pulled unwittingly from her body and delighting in the pain his actions caused. She was alone, defenceless in the silent darkness with only that face to tell her that she had not been granted the slow release of death. A force came across her like a palm colliding with the side of her head, nails digging in to her skin and scraping a thin bloody scratch across her cheek. She wouldn't cry for him, for she knew the euphoria her suffering gave him, but she was weak, so weak, and falling into the blackness of nothing.

Constance woke, as she had done countless nights before, with the breath caught in her chest, as though an invisible force was grasping her neck and stopping the air from reaching her screaming lungs. She fought to gain control, her mind dragging her back to the cool safety of reality. She knew that she could not go on like this. She had not slept properly in weeks, every morning taking more and more potion to disguise the terror which visited and taunted her in her dreams. She was perfectly aware of the staffroom whispers, the passing glances that lingered a little too long to be anything but analytical, and it destroyed her to know how they talked about her. All too often, she had lingered in the space of nothingness after vanishing from the room to see what they said when they assumed she was elsewhere, but she couldn't bear to hear them talk in that way; it wasn't simply concern, but pity, and that was what she simply could not abide.

She rose from her bed, wiping the hair from her face with a flick of her wrist and walked over to a bookcase which stood across from her. Constance did not know why she had not consulted one of the many volumes she possessed; perhaps it was the fear of what she might find...but no. Constance Hardbroom felt no fear; or at least that was what everyone needed to think. She had come to realise that this was something beyond her control and it was taking over her life more than she could allow.

Trawling through endless pages of pointless words took the potions mistress into the early hours of the morning, the unyielding darkness fading into a receding grey and the silence broken by the calls of morning. She sat at her desk, summoning books with the flexing of her hand and returning them without the need to waste time with the journey. She had found nothing of use on dreams, though she was not sure what she had expected to find. Her eyelids were heavy, as though they were being pulled across her eyes against her will, and her thoughts were a disarray of meaningless sounds, but she would not rest again that day. She had never felt so vulnerable as when she woke from a night of tormented slumber and it was a feeling she wished to hold off on until it could be banished completely.

It was only half an hour before she needed to be downstairs, watching over the girls as they began another day of blissful ignorance to the harsh realities of the world. Just before she left her books, just before she began to prepare for another monotonous day at the academy, she read a line which sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

_The dreams are the gateway to the soul, and those who enter are bound in blood_

The thought was chilling, though she didn't quite understand what it meant. Of course it was a metaphor, to show how dreams can portray the unconscious longings of the mind; yet still the words rang in her ears, echoing through her skull as she tried to comprehend exactly what it meant, a curse of wanton words which would stay with her until she would discover its truly shattering significance.

Xxx

Miss Cackle sipped tea in her usual cosy armchair whilst pretending to be reading a book which she had placed on her lap. The headmistress had not read a single word of _When Magic Goes Awry _by her favourite author as she was watching her deputy from the corner of her eye, sitting as always at the desk doing work she seemed to create to keep herself occupied. Amelia's heart was doing battle with her mind, a raging conflict of what was right and what was easy. It pained her to see Constance like this, subdued and melancholy yet still keeping the porcelain mask which hid her from the unwanted burden of admittance; but the mask was slipping.

Constance feigned ignorance of the watchful eye of the headmistress, but it was becoming more and more of a distraction as she got to the third pile of essays stacked on the desk, mountains of paper and ink that today felt like not simply a duty but a hindrance. It was not Amelia's right to decide what was best for her and she knew that was the only reason she had been restrained from voicing what was on her mind. The only distraction from the paranoia induced by her insufferable colleagues was a dull ache, throbbing persistently at her temples and fogging her mind as she tried to work.

Constance decided that she'd had enough. Gathering the remaining papers into to a pile, she rose from her seat and Amelia looked up, as though she had not been scrutinising her every move since she had walked in half an hour ago. There was no need for words, both women knew exactly what the other was thinking and neither needed the stress of the conversation still not quite ready to be had. Constance vanished without a word, leaving Miss Cackle to sigh and place her head for a moment in her hands; she was too old for this. She was the head of the school, the matriarch of the academy, yet somehow this situation was too perplexing for her to handle. She was aware that something was going on, but her deputy's futility and complex defence mechanism made it impossible for her to reach in and find out what secrets lay hidden in the deep brown pools of Constance's eyes.

Something was wrong. Constance had been materialising around the school since her first day, using it as a means not only of keeping watch but of undetectable transport and she had been taught it well; she never got it wrong. So when she appeared, dazed and confused in the middle of a corridor outside the laboratory, alarm bells rang like a frantic morning chorus.

The pain in her head suddenly blazed, fire burning through her veins and forcing her eyes to close from the paralysing agony. She saw flashes of scenes too horrible to describe, children screaming and evil laughing in the wake of madness and anarchy descending on the world. Constance felt the sting of flaming tears fall from her eyes and was powerless to stop them. The papers fell as a cascading waterfall of white and black as she grappled at the wall, stumbling forwards to try and stop herself from falling. Her mind was a thick fog of affliction and commotion, her thoughts lost to the haze; all that was clear was the pain taking over her, demanding her to bend to its will.

She fell to her knees, her breathing barely a low rasp as she struggled to keep the impressing dark void of unconsciousness at bay. She opened her eyes, fighting to take back any form of control over herself. She noticed a ruby of red blood fall gracefully onto one of the papers beneath her, followed by a gentle flow of scarlet droplets. She knew that they were hers, the glistening red reflecting the light to catch her eye like a warning and a mockery. She reached slowly to the side of her face and felt the searing agony of a cut across her cheek as though it was fresh, though of course it couldn't be. The pain was enveloping her, a shroud of darkness dragging her down into the depths of her own weakness; she was losing the fight.

'Constance?' asked Miss Cackle, looking in worry and confusion at the deputy headmistress. It was as though nothing had happened. Constance found herself in the corridor as she had been, kneeling in a heap of essays and the pain she had felt before gone, leaving no trace but the pulsing headache she had experienced before. She realised how she must look and straightened up, albeit a little too quickly. How her hand began to reach for the wall to steady her did not go unnoticed by Miss Cackle, but she brought it back and the barrier of self discipline and control surrounded her once more like an invisible force.

'I do apologise, headmistress, I simply dropped a few papers.' With a casual flexing of her fingers, the work rose into the air and organised itself into neat piles which Constance gathered in her arms.

Miss Cackle was no fool. She had seen her fair share of liars in the many years she had taught at the academy and the look in Constance's eyes was certainly lacking in honesty. Her face was ashen, though expressionless and Amelia got the distinct sense of panic in the air which she guessed Constance was trying desperately to control though her steely eyes were giving nothing away. She looked awful, worse even than she had only moments ago in the staffroom, but Amelia knew the exact response she would get to any question she dared to ask.

'Constance please, I-'

'Again I am sorry Miss Cackle but I really must see to some third years.'

She turned and walked away, giving everything she could to give the impossible illusion that she was alright. She had felt that agony coursing through her body, seen the face disguised in the smoke, but still she had to deny that anything was happening; because if she didn't then it would be true. It would be true that she was losing her mind, the one sacred thing which she could pride herself upon and trust above everything else. The concept of insanity was terrifying, even she could admit. If you cannot trust your own thoughts, if you no longer believe that what you are thinking is true, then who are you?

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><p><strong>Ooh, very interesting! Surely deserves a review, perhaps? Hint much, I know, but reviews really do mean the world so even a few words would be fab!<strong>

**Thanks :) HB rules xx whoo!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I had to take a while to think if exactly what would happen in this chapter, but I think I have the next few lined up in my mind so the delay shouldn't be toooo long, bearing in mind my exams start on Monday (aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!)**

**Anyway this has been a good chapter to write but there is so much more to come! Thanks to all reviewers, you have been so lovely and have helped me to form my ideas which is saying something as they haven't been readily presenting themselves of late.**

**Anyway enough pointlessness, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Constance could feel the watchful gaze of Miss Cackle follow her down the corridor until she turned the corner. There, confident that she was alone, she vanished the papers which would reappear conveniently at her desk and walked briskly through a wooden door, taking the spiralling steps to her only undiscovered sanctuary: the dungeons. She sat at the wooden bench and let her heavy head fall into her hands, her mind a vast chasm of bewildered thoughts running aimlessly in panic.

She wanted to the tears falls gracefully down her face like melancholy rivers of emotion stroking her cheeks in comfort, but she wasn't even sure that she could anymore. She wanted to tell the headmistress everything, to share the burden of her terror with another and feel the weight of the world lifted even for a moment from her shoulders. She had tried to cope with this on her own, whatever _this _was, because she couldn't ask for help and she knew that she never would; as long as her life still held some meaning, she would never ask.

Without looking at the clock, Constance knew that she had soon to go back and face a classroom of rampant teenagers, lying to herself every second that there was nothing wrong. Anyone else would have...but no, she wasn't anyone else. She was Constance Hardbroom and she had a duty to her pupils, a loyalty that she would honour to her dying days whether they knew of it or not.

The silence of the room was a gracious relief; the calm which followed the storm and preceded another was a curse of inevitability as much as anything, but a few stolen moments of blessed release were paradise for Constance. The piercing thud of the drums in her head began to ebb away, the waves of pain receding like the calming of the tide. She rose from the bench, the feeling of reluctance at leaving the safety of her private space strong in her heart, yet the knowledge that she had no choice but to carry on forced her away; the rationality of her mind had always triumphed over her heart, so much so that there was no longer a contest.

Xxx

Miss Hardbroom walked briskly into the potions laboratory and every one of the third year pupils fell immediately silent, as though unable to speak in the presence of their teacher. They sat straight-backed in their chairs, ready to take in her every word and follow it at the risk of the deathly stare and barking voice of a woman they all feared to cross.

Mildred Hubble sat near to the back, more self conscious than all of the other girls surrounding her. She was infamous as a student who got things irreversibly wrong she knew as well as anyone the wrath the followed impertinence. That afternoon, however, she sensed that something was different. She watched Miss Hardbroom walk to her desk and begin writing the name of a potion on the board, trying to see the difference she could not quite place. She could see that her teacher was not able to meet the eyes of any of her students as she spoke to them about their assignment that day, and there was something behind her dark eyes; a truth that needed desperately to be told.

'Mildred Hubble!' She realised at that moment that she had not been listening, completely subconsciously staring at her teacher rather than taking note of what was being said.

'Y-yes Miss Hardbroom?' replied Mildred cautiously, already aware of exactly what would come next from the potion mistress' mouth.

'This potion is difficult, Mildred, and with your track record I would rather advise that you take note of what I am saying rather than gawping into space!' Her sentenced was harsh, loud and startling even for her; she knew that Mildred had not been staring into space but at her and it was not something she appreciated.

'Sorry Miss Hardbroom.' Mildred kept her eyes down on her work from then on, concentrating her gaze on the frothing mixture before her and trying to avoid the urge to watch Miss Hardbroom again.

'What do you think is up with HB?' she asked Maud Moonshine, her short bespectacled friend of three years who was stirring her own concoction to Mildred's left.

'What do you mean?'

'Can't you feel it?' Mildred inquired, stunned that only she had noticed the change in their teacher's demeanour.

'Feel what? It's just the same old HB, bossing us around and-' her sentence was cut short as Miss Hardbroom's head snapped in her direction. No-one knew the full extent of her capabilities, and Mildred thought it best to stay quiet for the rest of the lesson.

Constance sat at her desk and waited for the girls to finish their potion, wondering how Mildred could tell that something was wrong. The other girls were oblivious and despite the dull ache beginning once more to pound in her skull, she was aware that she was hiding her discomfort well. Mildred was an anomaly, a girl with the potential to be a very good witch but with the clumsy misfortune of an unstable child; yet Miss Hardbroom did not underestimate her. She had learned over the past few years, watching the girl escape the most difficult and unusual of situations, that Mildred Hubble was someone to watch.

Yet still the question burned in her pounding head: how could she tell? Even without this inquisition to bother her she could still see the cogs of the girl's mind working as she stirred, thinking of her; it unnerved her more than perhaps it should have.

Xxx

'Have you noticed it too?' Miss Drill whispered to Miss Cackle, leaning across the scrubbed wooden table.

'Yes, though she hides it well from the girls. I just wish I knew what was wrong!' Amelia had lines of worry etched in her soft, kind face as she nursed a cup of cooling tea.

'You mean she hasn't told you?'

'No,' admitted Miss Cackle, wishing that she was not as ignorant to the full picture as she knew that she was.

'You've known her for years, wouldn't she tell you if it was serious?' Miss Cackle gave a weak smile at Imogen, who was as naive to Constance's ways as she had ever been.

'I have known her for fifteen years, since she graduated top of her class from Witch Training College and accepted her position here at Cackle's, but the thing that you must know about Constance is that it doesn't matter how well you know her, she keeps herself to herself. She is the most private person I have ever met and God help you if you question her on it. She has to be perfect, a force to be reckoned with not the subject of pity or sympathy; it destroys her.'

Imogen didn't know what to say. As a non-witch in a witch's school she felt out of place at the best of times, but she felt more useless now than she ever had before. She jumped slightly in her seat as Constance materialised at the urn, beginning to pour herself tea without seeming to acknowledge that she had moved.

The difference was more apparent to Imogen now than it had ever been, though she had no idea what was causing it. It was almost a look of defeat which Constance wore, though defeat to what? Her eyes were not as sharp, a hint of sadness pervading the usual dispassionate glare she kept at all times and her body looked exhausted, her posture less than its usual rigidity.

Constance pretended not to notice the other women in the staffroom. She had stopped reprimanding her colleagues about watching her with such a concerned gaze and simply wished to take her tea and leave for an evening of peace and quiet. The headache was more than returning now, but growing like a tumour in her head and it was all that she could do not to gasp in pain, but she could not let this rule her life; it was fine.

Miss Cackle shot a worried look at Imogen who reciprocated with a mirrored one of her own. Without words, the headmistress asked her to let her speak alone with Constance and Miss Drill understood, making a mumbled excuse to leave.

'I know what you are going to say, headmistress,' warned Constance, watching the grains of sugar dissolve at the mercy of the boiling liquid as she stirred.

'Well then answer me honestly and I will stop asking,' replied Amelia wisely, 'is there anything wrong?' Constance sighed,

'There is nothing wrong which should concern you, headmistress.' It wasn't a no. Amelia registered this immediately and heard the chorus of alarms ringing.

'I can see it in your eyes; it's why you won't look right at me,' said Amelia, forcing herself to remain calm. Constance couldn't bring herself to seek the headmistress' gaze as she knew it would give her away more completely than her appearance already managed.

'I am fi-'Constance never finished the sentence. A spasm of pain, alive only for the briefest of moments, forced her to stop and concentrate all of her energy into staying upright. The fire coursed through her blood, that one moment lasting one hundred years as her body struggled to cope. The cup she had been holding began to fall and, as she regained some of her strength, she cast a wordless spell to prevent it hitting the ground; but it didn't work. The cup ignored her magic and fell, shattering on the floor and spilling the dark contents onto the carpet like a pool of blood staining the material.

Constance stared for a moment at her baron fingers, the feelings pressing down upon her chest indescribable. She flexed her hands nervously and pointed at the cup, which vanished with its contents into nothingness and breathed a muted sigh of relief. She had simply been too slow to react, she told herself, though life be damned if she believed it.

Miss Cackle had been watching, not sure of what exactly she had seen but knowing that her deputy could be the only one to explain. Constance looked at her, the naked vulnerability in her eyes frightening.

'I can't...not now,' she said quietly. One hundred questions ran through Amelia's brain, but as she knew each would be too invasive to a place within Constance that had not been disturbed for so long, she restrained herself and simply nodded.

There was a pause, a moment of silence which lasted long enough to create distinctive awkwardness. The light of day was fading outside the castle walls, the weakened sun retreating to the power of the black night, with the moon hanging in ridicule as its foot soldier. Constance knew that she would have to tell Amelia, but she did not think that she could bear it, not yet at least. Admitting that there was something happening, even if Miss Cackle had already known, had taken more than she knew she had to give and both women understood where they were headed soon enough.

'I think that I will retire for the evening,' said Constance finally.

'Very well Miss Hardbroom. Oh, by the way, I received a letter from the grand wizard today. He has a gift, a donation to the school and he is coming to present it next week; I just thought I should let you know.' Constance nodded to Miss Cackle before striding swiftly from the room. That was all that she needed, the added hassle of a visit from Egbert Hellibore who would no doubt bring a sense of disorder and frivolity to the girls who idolised him. As she sat in her room, watching the death of the day from her window, she knew that she would not receive the fulfilling night of sleep that her body craved. It was a curse of which she had no control, she could admit that to herself, but she just wished she knew what it meant. Why her, why now? So many unanswered inquiries that she feared would stay unknown until the day when she could stand it no longer; and she feared with dread churning in the pit of her stomach that the day would come sooner than she was ready for.

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><p><strong>I would love some reviews, as I have a very stressful weekend ahead and I much appreciate the feedback :):)<strong>

**HB rules**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Hello avid readers! I shorter chapter than usual but it made sense to stop here. I know now where at least the next chapter is going so shouldn't be too long for an update :P**

**I have exams tomorrow so reviews would definitely cheer me up, hinting much! Thanks so much to those who have reviewed so far and I love to know what people think!**

**More action to come soon, I hope! Enjoy the latest chapter!**

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><p> <strong>Chapter 5<strong>

The biting November wind rushed through the trees, dancing and swirling through the air like a dancer's ribbon. A light powder of snow had fallen through the night, cloaking the once fresh green landscape in a veil of white. Constance walked through the trees, her dark cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders and a basket of herbs and fungi swaying by her side. The first light of day had emerged only moments earlier, the light now illuminating the valley and reflecting across the rippling lake, yet she had not slept at all. Her body ached for the comfort of her bed, but her body was ignorant to the mental persecution which came as the terrible price for a night of rest. It wasn't worth the sound of her own voice screaming which so often woke her, nor the pain which lingered even after the release of the waking world; no, she would rather be on the brink of exhaustion.

She laboured back over the hill, stopping for a moment to take in the castle before her; grand even in slumber, yet somehow different. She knew, of course, that it was her that had changed. For so long, Cackle's had been her home, the place where she felt at ease and in control and somewhere she knew that was her own domain; now it seemed more like a stranger, the dark wood of Walker's Gate not as welcoming as it had been those many years ago when she had first arrived there. Perhaps it was aware that it was letting in the personification of danger, a woman tortured by the hauntings of her own mind and powerless against it. Constance would never willingly leave the castle, but as she returned into the empty courtyard she felt the almost unsuppressible urge to run away in the silence of the morning, if only to protect the place she loved and the people she, despite herself, cared for.

She shook the thought from her head, not wanting to ponder over foolish and cowardly escapisms. Constance took the ingredients she had gathered to the laboratory and began to put them away, unusually conscious to the rough stems of the plants beneath the skin of her fingers and the wafting perfumes ensnaring her senses. She found herself wondering with a heavy reluctance in her heart how much longer she could go on like this before...

Xxx

Egbert Hellibore strode in through the front doors of Cackle's Academy, his face a beacon illuminating the room with his beaming smile. He wore robes of the richest purple, glistening with stars embellished into the material and his long grey hair and beard were playfully wayward as he greeted the headmistress.

'Ah, Miss Cackle, what a pleasure it is to be here again!' He ushered two boys into the castle who had been dawdling behind him, new wizards in training were not used to the occasion of an official visit. One was carrying a large, mahogany box, polished until it reflected his terrified face back at him like a mirror with carvings decorating the sides.

'The pleasure is ours Grand Wizard. Now if you would like to make your way into the hall, I believe that Miss Bat and the first years have a welcoming chant before the presentation,' explained Miss Cackle, leading their guest through the corridor and into the hall where the girls were all eagerly awaiting his arrival.

The headmistress could not help but notice how Constance was hanging back, not making herself immediately known to the Grand Wizard as she would usually have done but merely escorting the younger boys behind him. It was typical of her to be uncomfortable in the presence of wizards, not due to intimidation but purely on the grounds of awkwardness, yet today she seemed more reserved than she would have considered normal for her deputy.

The first years finished their arrangement of the school hymn to a sea of relieved applause, which fell to silence as Egbert Hellibore rose to his feet on the central stage.

'Thank you very much girls for such a kind welcome on my return to the academy! I have come here today to present the school with a rare and valuable gift, a reward for the esteemed efforts of all of the pupils over the last year,' Egbert explained before beckoning the youngest of his two companions, a small blond boy with a mop of hair covering his face and glasses hanging off his small ears. He carried the box, trying desperately not to drop it and gave it to Egbert before returning sheepishly to his seat.

'Within this box contains a book,' said Egbert mysteriously, opening the lid which emitted a gentle puff of coloured smoke.

'This book is older than this school itself; older than any records can date back to.' The girls all hung on his every word, some leaning forward in their seats to get a better look. With a wave of Egbert's hand, a book rose eerily from the box. It was bound in dark fragile material, the pages yellowed and symbols marked across the cover.

'It is said that this volume holds the key to everything, the explanation of all things and, most sought after of all, the answer to evil itself,' whispered Egbert, gazing at the ancient text suspended before him. It sank back into the box which became once again sealed and he could see that the girls' eyes were wide with astonishment.

'Unfortunately, no-one as of yet has been able to decipher the writing, but it is still a very valuable asset and one that I am sure the school will treasure.'

'What use is that?' whispered Enid Nightshade to Mildred whom she was sitting next to, 'a book that holds the key to everything and we can't even read it!' Mildred managed a weak smile, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the book was not all that it seemed to be.

'Thank you, Grand Wizard, and I assure you that the volume will be safe at Cackle's,' said Amelia gratefully.

Constance stared at the box, unable to move her gaze elsewhere. It was then that she realised her vision was blurring, the students all merging into an ocean of colour before her and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably. She had not been feeling well all day, but this was different; she knew what was coming.

She had little time to brace herself before it came, pain as she had never felt boiling her blood and attacking her head with an invisible force, like the pressure of a thousand hands pressing hard against her skull. Her hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms until she felt a trickle of blood seep between her fingers. Constance closed her eyes and saw eyes staring back at her, alive with the pleasure of malevolence yet contorted with the power of rage and vengeance. It took everything, every ounce of her strength and every drop of her will to prevent tears from falling or her voice from crying out to anyone who could take away the burning agony. To her the world was lost, light and sound replaced only by suffering and she wished that she could just fall to the unyielding power of whatever it was that was taking her over; but she couldn't.

A spark of something brought her back, the eyes vanishing as though they had never been and as she opened her eyes everything was normal. Miss Drill was now standing on stage, giving notices about the week's sporting activities and no-one even seemed to have notice the anguish which had plagued her for a length of time she couldn't even establish. Miss Cackle shot her a worried glance, but it did not reflect the abhorrent reality. Constance was safe, at least for now, back in the protective cage which prevented anyone from knowing the truth of her predicament.

She felt as though the life had been sucked from her body and as the girls stood to leave, she hadn't even the energy to stand. She was safe, true, from those who cared about her, but at the mercy of that which did not.

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><p><strong>Review perhaps XD<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everyone, sorry for the slight delay but this chapter has been hard! Anyway thanks for everyone who has reviewed and wished me luck; I needed it! Physics this afternoon so I thought I would put this chapter up before :)**

**Reviews always welcome, tell me what you think and enjoy the chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Amelia laughed, the empty sound as false as the lying smile she wore as she listened to what had to be the last of Egbert's stories. Miss Bat sat across from him, munching contentedly on a tulip as she listened intently. Miss Drill had left them to watch over the girls at dinner, finding any excuse to escape the confusion of being a non-witch in the thrall of a tiresome magical conversation.

Constance had chosen to sit away from the centre of the conversation at the end of the long table, staring out of the window with a look of deep contemplation. She had not spoken since the assembly, other than to quietly decline the offer of food and wine and she seemed unaware of the headmistress' watchful eye even as she listened to the Grand Wizard speak. Her arms were crossed lightly across her lap, though her hands grasped almost dependently on her forearms as though she was trying to subtly comfort herself in the confines of her own solitude. Constance's gaze was more than distant, but one of a lost child consumed by the confusion of her thoughts; Miss Cackle couldn't know how she was dying inside.

Everything from the past few weeks, every sleepless night and every gasp of pain, was coming back to her and weighing down, heavy on her chest. She had to fight the tears which were long overdue, banished since childhood, for if she let them rise then she knew that she could not control herself. Everything was so wrong; it wasn't just the fear that taunted her despite her denial, but how she could see the darkness of where she was heading: the end of a tunnel which brought no relief of light or warmth, but the sickening feelings of dread and foreboding.

She wasn't herself anymore. She barely recognised the ghost the reflected back at her in the glass of a mirror and the values she had held close to her heart of ice since she was ten years old seemed pointless now, her morals fading to nothing in the midst of disaster. Of course she wanted to tell someone, to cry out in the middle of a crowded room and drown under the love of people willing to save her, but she knew that would never happen. Her gift, if nothing else, was that she suffered in silence and kept her burden as her own.

_Even if it kills you_

The voice she had heard only once before: the soft lullaby at the back of her mind which caressed her thoughts and fears, voicing the truths she did not want to face.

Constance stood up quietly, hoping in vain that she could just leave in silence. Her wishful thinking was proved to be useless as the three others in the room immediately turned their heads to her; why was it that they were always staring?

'I hope that you will excuse me, Grand Wizard, but I have some work to finish in private. It has been an honour to make your acquaintance again.' Her voice was polite but expressionless, functional rather than truthful as she bid him farewell without a look to the others. Davina sat typically unaware, finishing the last of the silky soft pink petals which had once been part of a blossoming flower.

'I will be right back.' Miss Cackle made to follow Constance, running through the door to catch up with her deputy. She caught the sleeve of her arm just enough to make her stop and turn to face the headmistress.

'Constance,' she said, knowing that they were both aware of what she was asking.

'Please Amelia,' replied Constance weakly. The headmistress looked straight at her and saw it; the vulnerability in her eyes which showed her that beneath it all, behind the cloak of perfection, there was a terrified young woman crying out for someone, anyone, to help her.

'I can't let you just walk away.'

'You will have to, headmistress, because that is the way that it has to be.' Amelia could sense the stubborn finality in Constance's voice that told her this had been decided a long time ago in her mind; she wasn't telling anybody.

'I'm sorry,' whispered Constance before folding her arms and vanishing into nowhere, leaving the headmistress stunned and confused.

There was something buried in the apology that sent a shiver down her spine; a chilling realisation that this was bigger than she had anticipated, more serious than she had even considered. She would get through to her, one day, but what if that day was not soon enough?

Xxx

Rain pattered softly against the roof of the castle, the gloomy haze of clouds covering the sky and kidnapping the sun from its majestic perch. The castle had been penetrated by the freezing outside air and all of the girls were hurrying through the corridors, heads bent and cloaks tight around their shoulders.

As Mildred walked into the potions lab, she felt the temperature drop even further. It was an eerie sense, the feeling that something was lingering in the air and watching over the room. Miss Hardbroom was sitting at her desk her head rested on three fingers of her left hands as she read through the books stacked at her desk. Mildred could see that she looked unwell, drawn and tired though she was obviously trying to hide it and it worried her to see the woman she feared but respected in such a vulnerable position.

'Settle down girls,' snapped Miss Hardbroom. The room fell immediately silent, no-one daring to contradict an order directed as a warning to each and every one of them. With an evident reluctance, Constance rose to face the class. She had to pause for a moment, dizziness threatening her perfect posture.

'Now girls, I have decided that you are all to show what you have learnt this month. Each of you will prepare one of the potions we have studied over the past four weeks and I will mark what you produce for your end of topic exam. You have one hour; begin.'

As Miss Hardbroom flexed her fingers, crackling magic as fierce and bright as lightning vanished the textbooks with a small puff of smoke. Mildred groaned as she racked her brains for the ingredients of anything they had brewed in the past few weeks, but found herself unable to remember a single thing. She looked hopelessly at Maud, who had already lit her cauldron and begun to chop roots, wondering how it was that only she could remember nothing at all.

Miss Hardbroom sat back at her desk, but could not look away from Mildred who was staring uselessly at the empty cauldron before her. Even after two years the girl still managed to astonish her; no matter how many times she pulled off an impossible escape or a heroic spell, she was still Mildred Hubble who could not even remember the ingredients to a simple laughing potion.

Constance massaged her throbbing temples with her fingers. Every night sleep had been forced upon her, a violent force closing her eyes and playing maliciously with her mind to the point that she woke up screaming, drained shivering and alone in the dark, wishing that she could escape the influence of her torturous nightmares. It was not a life that she wanted to lead anymore; it wasn't worth it just to be constantly plagued with guilt and fear, but there was nothing that she could do about it.

Mildred began to add pond weed to the collection of ingredients in her cauldron and Miss Hardbroom could barely allow herself to look. She had confused the components of about three different potions, resulting in what Constance guessed would be a large green mess.

_You could always get rid of her_

Constance froze. The voice sounded exactly like her own, but she knew that the thought was not. She could feel it, like a virus forcing itself into the complexity of her thought processes.

_Come on, you could do it. As simple spell and they would be silenced forever_

The whisper was smooth and encouraging, chillingly similar in every way to her own tone of voice, but Constance knew that she would never consider using magic against a student; it was against everything she believed in.

_You could kill them all..._

Mildred looked up, startled.

'Sorry Miss Hardbroom, what did you say?' Constance's head snapped to attention and she stared at the young inquisitive girl before her. She knew that not a word had left her lips, it couldn't have, but Mildred could not have heard the voice as well; could she?

'I didn't say anything, Mildred. Perhaps if you paid more attention to what you call a potion then you would not let your imagination run away with you.' She could see Mildred begin to say something in reply, but she conceded defeat before even uttering a word.

'Did you not hear it?' hissed Mildred to Maud, who looked confusedly at her friend.

'Miss Hardbroom didn't say anything, Millie.'

'She did! I couldn't hear what it was exactly, but I definitely heard it,' fought Mildred.

'Maybe you're tired, or under stress, but HB wasn't talking,' replied Maud calmly.

'I know what I heard,' insisted Mildred as she returned to her potion, hurt that her best friend did not believe her.

The voice was gone but its presence was still there in Constance's mind; she could feel it. She knew what was coming and she needed to get away. If the girls saw her crumble then there was no point in even carrying on; her position at the school was her life and without it, she was nothing.

'I will be right back girls. If anyone sees this as a childish opportunity to cause trouble, they will be rewarded with five hundred lines and three weeks of detention,' she warned before striding hurriedly from the room.

She only just made it outside before she crumpled, falling against the wall and barely able to keep herself from sliding to the floor. She knew this feeling well; the feeling of something invading her body and pulling at her soul until it folded to its will. But now it was different. The face reserved usually for the depths of the realm of dreams was forcing itself into her mind, pushing her down into the darkness of evil's domain until the real world was gone.

Constance was alone in the blackness, kneeling with her hands restrained behind her back at the mercy of something she couldn't see or even understand. She saw men gathering round her, cloaked in dark material which covered their faces, yet she could feel the malice in their hearts. She tried as she always did to escape with magic, channelling every last bit of energy to her casting fingers, but it was useless; she was trapped. One of the men pulled a long, thin blade from beneath the cloak and she could sense the delight as her eyes widened in horror. Her heart stopped beating in her chest, watching in slow motion as he glided menacingly towards her. He cut deep into her arm, the metal piercing her flesh and drawing a steady stream of burning rubies flowing onto the floor. Another uttered a curse beneath his breath, the ancient words a blur in his husky tones; she knew before it hit her what was happening. Constance felt the energy course through her body, like a fire igniting her soul and burning inside her until she couldn't take it anymore. She screamed, the piercing sound of someone with nothing left to lose.

Xxx

Mildred stopped suddenly, trying to concentrate on the distant sound that she knew that she could hear but managed to escape her like the last fragments of a dream just out of reach.

'Maud, can you hear that?' Maud sighed wearily and looked at her friend.

'No Millie, I can't hear anything. What does it sound like?'

'I don't know,' confessed Mildred, 'but it is definitely there. I'm trying to concentrate on it but I can't seem to hear it properly.'

'Clear your mind, close your eyes and focus on the sound,' tried Maud, intrigued.

Mildred left her potion simmering over a crackling fire and sat up straight, closing her eyes and focusing on the murmur at the back of her mind. It happened suddenly, as though a door opened and the gateway into hell allowed her passage. She could see, if only in flashes, the most horrific images. She heard the screams, like nails on a chalkboard, hopeless souls shrieking for help; but she was not prepared for the final revelation. Mildred saw Miss Hardbroom, collapsed in a heap on the floor in a pool of blood and crying out as she writhed in pain. It was unbearable, seeing someone she knew so well in such pain.

Mildred opened her eyes to find herself on the floor, breathing quickly and her heart beating fast.

'Millie? Are you alright?' Maud was bent beside Mildred, her face fraught with concern.

'Yes, I'm fine; but HB isn't,' said Mildred, shaking from the shock of what she had just experienced.

'What do you mean? She just went outside two minutes ago,' asked Maud, confused.

'I don't really know, I just saw...well I couldn't say what it was. All I know is that something is really wrong and I have to find out what it is.' Mildred closed her eyes again bravely and found that she was able to open the gateway of her own accord.

Everything was calmer now, the images not flashing but a continuous film to which she was a distraught spectator. She watched, tears blurring her vision, as Miss Hardbroom tried to stand but was struck down by one of the cloaked men who surrounded her. She was clearly exhausted, pain etched in her furrowed brow and her hair spilling across her ashen face. Mildred gasped as all of the men gathered around, raising their hands and beginning to utter a curse. She saw the red light blaze from their fingers and engulf her teacher, the spitting crackle drowning the woman's terrified screams.

Millie!' Mildred opened her eyes again. As the world came rushing back, she bathed in the relief of her friends surrounding her and the bright light of reality.

'What on Earth is going on?' asked Ethel, who had long since finished her potion and did not enjoy Mildred being the centre of attention.

'I have to go,' said Mildred quietly and jumped to her feet, running out of the classroom leaving the others staring confusedly after her.

Mildred stopped, rooted to the spot as she found her potions mistress lying slumped as though dead against the wall, whiter than a sheet and shivering violently. Mildred didn't know what to do; she could barely contain the fear bubbling in her chest and she knew that what she had seen was really happening. She didn't know how it could be possible, or how she could have seen it, but she just knew that Miss Hardbroom was suffering as she watched, useless.

'M-Miss Hardbroom?' Her voice was an echo, barely audible as she fought the fear constricting her windpipe. She swallowed and moved closer, daring to reach out to touch Miss Hardbroom's arm.

As soon as her quivering fingers made contact with the soft velvet, Miss Hardbroom woke with a start. Mildred stifled a cry and backed away, fiercely wiping the tears from beneath her eyes. Constance looked at the girl, dazed and confused, every cell in her body still shrieking in pain. She tried to move, to stand and reassure Mildred that she was perfectly alright, but she couldn't even find the energy to move her arm.

'I...I...I saw you, I don't know how but I saw you and there were men and you were screaming and-' she stopped to catch her breath, her tears falling faster than she could stop down her face.

' Sh-should I go and get Miss Cackle?'

'No, Mildred, please...' Constance's voice was so fragile it was hardly there. Mildred knelt down beside her teacher, not sure of how she was helping but worried that if she wasn't there then Miss Hardbroom would fall back into the despair she had just witnessed.

They both sat, not saying a word in the awkward silence of desperation. Mildred knew that things would never be the same again, but vowed that she could not let anyone suffer what she had seen alone; especially someone that, despite it all, had saved her life in more ways than one.

Constance knew that she had to tell the girl, she owed Mildred that at least, but as a solitary tear slid morosely down her cheek and splashed onto the bleeding wound on her arm, she just wanted everything to stop.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R perhaps? XD Hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to all who have been wishing me luck, I may need it :) Another chapter up, hope you enjoy it!**

**Should be getting very interesting very soon...hints :) Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

It took a while for Constance to find the energy to stand. She felt as though every bone in her body was fighting her, aching and pulling her towards the ground; but she had already exposed her weakness to Mildred and needed to appear to be taking control, even if the terrified child inside of her was sobbing and crying out in pain.

She would not allow Mildred to help her, but knew that she could not simply order the girl to run along as if nothing had happened. Mildred tried to stop crying, the tears escaping from her eyes as she did her best to stay composed but she was not like Miss Hardbroom; she allowed her emotions to surface, to affect her judgement as they were what made her who she was.

Constance stood up straight, dismissing the spasms of pain as she retained her straight-laced posture and folded her arms, concentrating hard; in a moment, she and Mildred were transported down to the dungeons. Mildred felt dizzy, not used to travelling through the castle by vanishing, but soon noticed where they were. She gasped as she saw Miss Hardbroom fall, rushing to her side but being met with the icy bitterness of her potions mistress' gaze told her to stay back. Constance managed to steady herself, her arm having caught her by grasping the wooden bench as though her life depended on it; maybe it did.

It hurt to use her magic, the effort as though she had the weight of the world to provide for and only her meagre power to offer. Breathing was even a struggle but she feigned to Mildred, as she always did, that she had merely stumbled and sat down on the bench with her arms neatly placed on her lap.

'M-Miss...your arm...' Mildred pointed to Miss Hardbroom's right arm. The velvet material had been torn and frayed, a deep wound still oozing a steady trickle of blood which flowed down her arm and circled her wrists like a binding rope.

'Oh, it's nothing,' dismissed Miss Hardbroom quickly, mumbling beneath her breath and pulling her arm out of sight. Her good hand to tore away the tattered sleeve and she used magic to conjure a bandage which wrapped itself tenderly around her arm. She could not hide her discomfort, even though only a flicker of brightness in her tired eyes gave her away.

'What happened Miss?' This was the point where everything rested with Constance. She could be truthful, honouring the bravery of a pupil she had previously despised and allowing herself the relief of sharing her burden; or she could try to cover it all up with a lie, something clever enough to hide the web of deceit she had built around herself to prevent anyone from finding out.

'I'm not sure myself, Mildred,' Miss Hardbroom began honestly, 'but I assure you that it is nothing to worry about; it was probably nothing more than the hallucinogenic results of a badly brewed potion.'

She had chosen to try, at least, to protect Mildred. No matter how much she ached to give the bittersweet gift of truth to someone, her burden was not one that many would delight in sharing and she couldn't be responsible for that.

Mildred looked at a woman she had known for over two years; a woman who had saved her and scolded her with such power, yet sat before her now as impossibly human as ever, forcing lies from her lips to protect what dignity she had left. An anger she didn't know she was capable of bubbled in her chest.

'Don't lie to me Miss Hardbroom!' The confidence and sharpness in her tone was surprising, not least to herself, and Miss Hardbroom's head jerked up with a seething glare empowering her gaunt face.

'Mildred Hubble! Do I need to remind you that I am the deputy headmistress of this school and you are still a pupil?'

'No Miss, you don't, but you can't tell me that there is nothing wrong when I saw it! I saw what those men did to you and I can see your arm now which proves to me that there _is_ something to worry about.' Miss Hardbroom's eyes looked down at the surface of the bench for a moment and she took time to calm the impulses which told her to shout at Mildred. Her head was pounding and her stomach churned, dizziness stealing her thoughts and misplacing them in her mind. She couldn't focus; everything was happening at once and it made her feel like she was lost in the confusion of her own muddled thoughts.

'Miss Hardbroom!' Mildred shouted, snapping Constance fiercely back to reality. She had no idea how long she had been in her daze, but by the frightened look on Mildred's face she guessed that it had been longer than it had felt to her. Nothing seemed real anymore; Constance couldn't tell whether the pain in her arm was really there or whether it was just a figment of her imagination conjured by her dreams. The little girl inside her, the one not tainted by the teachings of Hecketty Broomhead and unmarked by the harsh lifestyle she had been forced to lead, just wanted to cry. That girl had been lost for so long, suppressed by the perfection Constance sought every day, but as her world crumbled around her it seemed that she was all that was left of her true self.

'Miss Hardbroom you're scaring me,' whispered Mildred. Constance could not fight any longer; she had to tell her. Though what she was not sure; how do you explain such a thing to such a young, innocent child?

'Mildred, sit down please.' Mildred sat opposite her teacher and waited quietly for her to continue. The anticipation of a conversation she craved but feared was rising and she could feel her hands trembling on her lap.

'What did you see?'

'I...I don't know, it was so strange and so panicked that I can't remember all of it. I just heard this voice, a soft voice in the back of my mind and when I closed my eyes...' Mildred took a breath, forcing back fresh tears.

'I saw flashes, images of, well, what looked like hell.' Mildred saw Miss Hardbroom's shoulders tense and her hand curl into a loose fist on the table. She could see that she was bringing it all back; the memories of what she had seen which must be have been far more vivid for her potions mistress, thought Mildred, and she hesitated to go on. She knew that she had to continue, but knew just as well the horrors resurfacing.

'And then...then I saw you. I pulled back for a moment but I returned and I could see you. There were men, well I think that they were men; they were circling around you. They cast some sort of spell and, oh God, and I heard you screaming-'

Mildred couldn't go on. The tears broke the glacial barrier of her strength and flowed triumphantly down her pale cheeks, falling gracefully onto the wood. She rested her head on her arm and sobbed, as though it was the only thing that she could do.

Constance lifted one of her hands and placed it on Mildred's, the warmth spreading through her fingers and passing much needed reassurance to her most remarkable pupil. As Mildred gathered her strength, she felt the guilt weigh down on her heart; however traumatised and hopeless she was feeling, she had forgotten that she only had only been a witness. Miss Hardbroom has lived through it, the pain still clear in her eyes despite the mask of control she constantly wore.

'I'm sorry,' sniffed Mildred, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

'There is no need to be, but I will need you to do something for me.'

Mildred looked up at Miss Hardbroom, seeing not the strict deputy headmistress but a warrior fallen from grace and nodded slowly.

'I am going to try something, but you will need to close your eyes and clear your mind. There is nothing to be scared of, but you may be a little surprised and if it gets too much just open your eyes.' Mildred could feel her heart thumping endlessly against her ribcage, but she knew that Miss Hardbroom would never put her in danger and trusted her, more than she had ever thought she would. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, feeling two of Miss Hardbroom's fingers on either side of her head.

It wasn't pain, but shock that caused Mildred to take a sharp intake of breath. Her mind had been clear, but now she could feel old memories reawakening; her first day at Cackle's, the day her parents had brought home her little sister and even things as trivial as last week's potions test.

Constance could see everything. Entering Mildred's mind had been easy, as she knew it would be. The mind of a child was so frantic and yet so open to new ideas that it was far from difficult for her to slip in. She saw flashes of Mildred's past, though did not pay attention through the respect she had always held for others; yet she could feel what Mildred felt. She could feel the anticipation of every potions exam and every new day at the academy, and the fear that was brought by her own image at the front of the classroom; never had she realised how cruel she could be and it made her shudder with contempt for herself. What sort of person was she?

Suddenly, Constance was thrown back into a pool of her own memories, her life playing out once more before her eyes and things she thought that she had forgotten, or had tried to forget, were forcing themselves to the front of her mind.

Mildred was confused. One moment, she had been watching her past resurfacing before her and the next she found herself in the unchartered territory of another's mind. She could see a girl, no more than four years old, sat alone in her room crying as she held a picture of the mother she had lost. Before her eyes the girl grew into a slender young woman with rippling hair and a pale complexion, but Mildred watched as her father forced her into the arms of the woman she knew all too well as Hecketty Broomhead. A flash, a crackle of magic, the screams of a terrified girl no more than seventeen years old as her resolve shattered and her bones broke...

Mildred opened her eyes, breathing hard and trying to shake the terror from her quivering body. She looked across at Miss Hardbroom, who was sitting in silence with her head in her hands. She had never thought about her teacher's past, why would she? But every worry and fear she had ever had seemed dwarfed by the sadness and horror of this woman's tragic life.

'Wh-what happened, Miss Hardbroom?'

'I tried to find out how you could see...what you saw; but it went wrong. We both ended up in my mind, in my memories. It shows that you and I, Mildred, we have a telepathic connection. Very uncommon amongst witches, but this is one which you must not use under any circumstances.' Miss Hardbroom's voice was sharp, the reprimanding tone she used daily on her pupils. Something in Mildred's eyes made her pause, the glimmer of fear that she knew resonated deep within her soul, and Constance stopped for a moment.

'You have to promise me that you will never open that connection again; it could endanger us both more than you will ever realise,' Miss Hardbroom explained gently.

'I promise, Miss Hardbroom, but I still don't understand. What was it I saw?'

'I am telling you this in the absolute strictest of confidence Mildred; you cannot tell anyone even Miss Cackle, understood?' She saw the loyalty in Mildred's nod and continued.

'I have been having what I thought were dreams, but the fact is that they are not all they appear to be. Something is causing it, I don't know what, but when I fall asleep it pulls me into that place you saw and sometimes...sometimes I leave with reminders of what I have suffered.' Miss Hardbroom placed her injured arm on the table and Mildred understood.

'But it has been getting worse. Every now and then, I feel the pain as if I am back in that godforsaken place and I don't know what to do.' The embarrassment of admitting her own weakness to a child, let alone Mildred, was too much for Constance and she forced herself to stop. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to take her to a place that was almost worse than the room with the cloaked figures; it was a place that she couldn't allow herself to go to.

Mildred was stunned. How could one woman, even someone as strong as HB, harbour such a secret and suffer so greatly on their own? It was not difficult to see the effects these dreams had now; it was in the way her head hung lower and in the darkness of her eyes, a gateway to the soul she hid from everyone.

'How long has this been going on?' asked Mildred sensitively.

'I can't remember,' confessed Miss Hardbroom, thinking back. 'A month, perhaps... maybe more but I'm not sure. Whatever it is, I assure you that I am going to sort it out. I have an idea of what to do now, and there really is nothing for you to worry about.' The lies flowed as softly as tears down Mildred's cheeks, one last betrayal to put an innocent mind at rest. She forced the flicker of a smile she never normally allowed to escape to dash across her face and Mildred reciprocated weakly.

'Now I think you should be going,' said Constance finally, the defiance in Mildred's eyes something they both knew was pointless.

'Yes Miss,' replied Mildred, 'but...everything will be alright, wont it?' Her childish question was calling out for reassurance she needed to hear, even if it was superficial.

'Of course Mildred, just leave it to me.'

Mildred left without another word and Constance was left alone. She folded her hands together, her fingers entwining like pieces of a puzzle slotting together, and rested her chin upon them. She could not let Mildred suffer for her own misfortune; she had to act, and soon...but how? So many unanswered questions plagued her troubled mind, the comfort of solitude not as warm as it once had been.

Above, the rest of the school went about its usual business, yet in the rooms below a woman sat, terrified and alone, crying silently like a child as the rest of the world went obliviously by.

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><p><strong>Would love some reviews, even a few words to let me know what you think? They mean a lot at a stressful time :P<strong>

**XD Hugs and bribery :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter is dedicated to the friends I have made, NCD and Princess Sammi especially!**

**Hope you enjoy and I must beg for reviews as they really do make my day and are really important to my writing. Also work as bribery; more reviews, more chapters! And better quality!**

**Enjoy**

**xx**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

The sun cast the last light of day across the lifeless trees, emitting a glow as red as blood across the submissive sky. The first flakes of virgin white snow had fallen earlier that evening, covering the landscape withf the natural, untainted beauty of winter. The birds had long since flown south, animals were burrowing into piles of leaves and making their homes for the harshest of seasons and the woodland was silent.

Constance looked out at the death of the day from her bedroom window. She couldn't be sure, but the light from the sun had seemed far less bright over the past few days; it was probably just her. Everything seemed to be as it always had been, but it felt different to her. It was her, not the world, that had changed, yet it tore at her heartstrings that she could not quite see the beauty she had always made time to appreciate.

She could feel it, the ominous weight at the pit of her stomach which told her that it was coming. Constance stood in the shower, staring at nothing in particular as the blistering droplets of water fell over her pale, numb skin turning it a deep, raw, ruby red.

She sat on her bed, wearing the purple silk that had once been a luxury but now felt like a curse. Every night seemed like the same inevitable monotony of events; the sun dipped below the apologetic horizon, not daring to look back at the chaos it left in its wake. Darkness fell and then, no matter what she did, no matter how hard she fought, she always ended up back there.

Having gulped a large dose of wide awake potion, the viscous liquid sliding uncomfortable down her throat into her failing, empty body, she cradled the dark bottle in her hands. The shadows she cast across the cold, unfeeling floor began to envelop everything in the room, like monsters taking advantage of the dark to feed on everything the light had once touched. Constance's hands began to shake the bottle falling in slow motion to the floor and disappearing in her own shadow, with only the ear splitting crash to tell her of its fate.

She could hear a laugh, the cold cruel and unyielding sound of something which was truly euphoric with malice. Constance rose to her feet, ignoring the stabbing pain of the glass cutting into her feet, and pace the room to try, concentrating hard to try to block out the force pushing at her mind. It came as she knew it would, with her falling not onto the floor but into the darkness of her own consciousness until she saw it, the face with the eyes of pure evil.

She could see that it was stronger, the fire dancing in those endless black chasms deeper and richer than ever before. To cry out was pointless, but she let a shriek escape her trembling lips as the beast plunged an arm inside her, reaching into her soul and the very essence of her nature. It wasn't just the pain that forced her eyes to close, but the overwhelming feeling that she was no longer in control of herself. She felt weak, drained of life and power as the creature, whatever it was, let her go.

Constance managed to force her eyes open, feeling like nothing more than an empty shell; but she was not prepared for what she saw. A hand, gnarled and soaked in rich red blood, was holding her heart still thumping in its palm. She could feel it, throbbing as if it were still her own, yet it was gone from her now. The gentle heart continued to beat, the aura of magic surrounding it like the fading embers of a dying fire, and she knew what the voice, like a crack of thunder on a summer's day, was going to say before it did.

_You belong to me..._

She woke to the sound of her own voice screaming, a soul-shattering sound which she would never get used to hearing. She could feel the remnants of tears which had stained the pillow beneath her head and her whole body ached with the mere effort taken for her chest to rise and fall. She could feel the first warm rays of morning light, like a hand in comfort stroking her back as if to tell her that everything would be alright; she knew that it would not be. It was only a matter of time, a waiting game which she was growing tired of playing. Lying on her bed, feeling empty and alone in the first light of day, Constance wanted nothing more than to let go.

Xxx

Mildred scraped most of what was supposed to be her breakfast into the bin, barely even realising that she was doing it. She had been lost in a daze since she had woken from a troubled sleep, the same thoughts which had taunted her every night since she had learnt the truth. She had kept to her word, keeping the doorway in her mind closed at Miss Hardbroom's insistence, but at night she could not help what bled through into her dreams. Often, it was just a noise which caused her to wake in the dead of night' but last night it had been different. Last night, she could feel the fear that was not her own force her to awaken and send a shiver down her spine, knowing all too well what it meant.

Mildred had wanted more than anything to peak through the door, to see what was happening to cause such pain that it formed a subconscious cry for anyone to help; but she had not. She knew that even if she could see what was happening, that there was nothing she could do. She could not save her, she could not help her and she could not storm to her room in the middle of the night to wake her up. Seeing what she could not prevent would only have made the feeling worse and, despite the guilt her selfishness brought, she did not want to see it.

'Mildred, are you alright?' Maud looked at her quizzically, the concern of a woman twice her age present in her youthful face.

'I'm fine; I've told you it isn't me that everyone should be so worried about,' insisted Mildred.

'Well if you told us the truth then we wouldn't have to keep asking!' replied Maud wisely. Mildred sighed, a long and drawn out sound which contained the frustration and endless repetition of the one thousandth explanation.

'I would tell you Maud, you know I would, but this is serious and I have sworn not to say it,' said Mildred as she walked with Maud to the potions laboratory.

'Couldn't you even give me a hint?' wheedled Maud, but Mildred stood strong.

'I can't, it would destroy-'She stopped as they reached the classroom and entered, the unnerving silence in the room snatching the last of her words.

Mildred took her seat and tried to take her eye off the potions mistress standing with her arms folded at the front of the class, but to no avail. She didn't understand how nobody else seemed to notice. She had given up pointing out the drawn, tired expression Miss Hardbroom wore even when telling somebody off and resigned herself to watching in horror, with the burden of the truth casting out rational thought.

It was today that she saw the most notable difference. Even Ethel had acknowledged something, whispering to Drusilla whilst her eyes flitted between Miss Hardbroom and her closest friend. It wasn't just a tired look which their teacher wore, but one of someone who had simply given up. To Mildred, everything about her emanated sadness, the tragedy of her misfortunes like clawed hands reaching out to grab the attention of anyone who could relieve her suffering. Her tone had lost its edge, the sharpness which struck fear in the heart of everyone who had ever been taught by this witch and it was tearing at Mildred's soul to watch her fade away with such grace. She sat, not paying any attention to the words falling from Miss Hardbroom's lips but lost in a world of her own. As everyone began to work, Mildred simply stared at the blank paper before her and watched a tear fall from her eye and splash down, soaking deep into the very essence of the page.

How could nobody notice? Was everyone really that heartless that they couldn't see a woman dying before them? Mildred saw the world differently now, with the knowledge that there was nothing that anyone could do to help such a brave soul in pain affecting how she saw every little thing. She looked up for a moment at Miss Hardbroom and thought...

_I don't know why you do it_

She could swear, if only for a fraction of the second that she heard the melancholy patter, like the whistle in the sound of the wind, ring in the back of her mind.

_Because I have to_

Xxx

'I can't take this anymore,' whispered Miss Cackle resignedly. 'How does she expect us just to stand by and watch?'

The staffroom was solemn, the tension hanging thick in the cold air. The headmistress paced across the small room, Miss Drill watching her from her seat at the long table.

'She is a very private person Amelia, and I don't think that she's ready to admit what's really happening. '

'We can't live the life of another as we wish for them to do so,' interjected Miss Bat wistfully, who had been sitting silently in the corner for some time. Miss Cackle couldn't understand how Imogen was so calm about this. They were watching a colleague, a friend, waste away before them and they didn't know why; was it just her who gave a damn? No, she was being unfair, yet she could not shake the feeling that no-one quite saw how seriously Constance was suffering.

Miss Hardbroom strode in, not catching Miss Cackle's eye as if she knew what they had been talking about. Miss Bat made her way slowly to the stationary cupboard. She went to hide, knowing that a confrontation was imminent and craving the calm and solace of a confined space.

Constance knew it just as well. She already felt as if every ounce of will and energy she had ever held onto had been drained from her dwindling frame, a skeleton held up only by pure force of will and dignity; she did not want a fight.

A tear sprang to Miss Cackle's eye, she couldn't stop it. She stopped pacing and stared longingly at her deputy. Every instinct told her to go over and embrace the friend whom she had know for so long, yet knew so little about.

'Constance, we need to talk.' Her voice shook like the fragile young leaves of a growing tree being startled by the wind.

'Really headmistress?' questioned Constance, not looking round as she poured herself a cup of tea, 'I wasn't aware of any matters which we needed to discuss.'

'You know exactly what I am talking about!' replied Miss Cackle, her tone biting and serious.

'Do I?' Feigning ignorance was not something Constance enjoyed but she couldn't deal with this. She was beginning to realise that she never would be able to truly admit the truth to the headmistress and accept the consequences, as she couldn't even bring herself to try and explain.

Miss Cackle lost the gentle facade she constantly had to keep, letting the full force of her emotions push forward to the forefront of her mind.

'Constance Hardbroom,' she shouted, 'I do not appreciate being taken for a fool! I can see, we all can, that something is wrong and it is affecting your judgement. Either tell me what is going on, or I will be forced to take action!'

The headmistress' words were lost. Constance felt the familiar feeling washing over her again and tried to vanish to the secluded prison of her room; but she couldn't. She reached out her hand to cast a spell, any spell, but the magic only crackled aloud before retreating back through her fingers and stabbing like a knife in her chest.

Miss Cackle watched in horror, the colour draining from her face and her anger and frustration leaving her as quickly as she had allowed it to come.

'Constance? Constance, I'm going to call a doctor.'

Constance turned to protest.

'No, I-' as she turned she doubled over feeling the pain of a thousand fires scorching her body and the claws of a hand dragging her down. She was, for the first time in her life, ready to admit that she was afraid and let the tears hot with agony escape from the corners of her eyes. She fought, giving everything just to stay on her feet, but she knew that she could not win. The heart beating hard inside her chest was no longer hers to control, and the owner wanted it back; he wanted it back and he wanted her soul, whether she was willing or not.

She lost the pointless battle, falling gracefully like a deer to the hard unyielding floor; though her mind fell further.

Miss Cackle watched in despair as her deputy struggled and fell, crumpling into a heap on the ground. It took her a moment to react, her senses dulled by the shock and horror her eyes could not quite acknowledge. The headmistress fell to her knees and pulled Constance gently onto her back; if it had not been for the light movement of her breathing, Amelia would have sworn Miss Hardbroom was dead. Her deathly pallor was more than ashen, paler than white with all colour long banished from the pearly skin and her hands were limp against the dark velvet of her dress.

Miss Drill leapt to her feet as Miss Bat ran out of the cupboard wailing shrieking.

'What do we do Miss Cackle?' she asked.

'I...I just don't know; oh God...' whispered the headmistress, staring at a woman who had been through so much alone and was now paying the unforgiving price. She took a lifeless hand in hers, feeling the skin unbelievably cold against her own warmth, and let tears splash from her tired eyes.

Xxx

Mildred stumbled in the corridor, her knees buckling causing all of her books to spill from her arms onto the stone before her. Her friends turned to her, panic stricken.

'What's wrong Millie?' asked Maud, always the first to show her concern.

'I...I don't...' Her head was throbbing. She could feel something trying to force its way into her mind, or beckoning her too look through; but she couldn't, she had sworn against it. Her surroundings became a blur, everything merging into one unidentifiable colour moving around her. She had to do it.

Closing her eyes, the door swung open and she stepped willingly through. Her mind exploded, one million images flashing and fading more quickly than they had come. And then, like the parting of the sea, everything was calm and she saw it. It was the answer, the one thing that she knew at once would spare a woman's pain and deliver her from suffering.

Pulling herself back Mildred ran to the staffroom, leaving her possessions scattered and her friends more than a little confused. Coming up to the door, it did not even occur to her that she should knock. She burst through the wooden doorway, ready to tell what she knew and save the day; she could not have known what horrors lay in wait.

Miss Hardbroom was lying on the floor, the teachers gathered round with faces stricken with panic and with fear. She looked as though her soul had left her body, as if only the empty shell of a woman remained lying helpless and lifeless on the hard floor. Mildred clapped her hands to her mouth and backed away slowly until her back met the cold granite and she slid to the floor, drowning in the salty sea of tears.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Amelia's world had crumbled into pieces around her. There was nothing left to see other than her dearest friend, fallen in so many ways and lying unconscious; nothing else mattered. Even in the minutes where time seemed to stop her breathing grew slow and weak, but there was nothing that she could do. She despised it, being forced to kneel beside someone to whom she owed so much and not being able to do a single thing to help. She could almost feel the cruel mistress of death, skulking behind her and laughing as though waiting to take another conquest to the world beyond.

Mildred sat in a heap on the floor, endless sobs choking her every breath. Miss Bat noticed her, the maternal instinct she had for each and every one of the girls in the school taking over rational thought and calling her to Mildred, to wrap her in the arms of comfort.

'Miss Cackle, what do we do?' asked Miss Drill almost impatiently.

'I...I don't...' The words would not come, yet the headmistress did not know what words she could offer. She knew that, whatever was going on, no doctor could cure it yet she could feel the sands of time flowing, as though Constance's life was slipping slowly away.

'I-I should've d-done something,' rasped Mildred, her tears staining the material of her chanting teacher's sleeve.

'Shh Mildred,' soothed Miss Bat, her head resting on Mildred's, 'there's nothing anyone could have done.'

'But she told me...what was wrong. She said everything would be alright!' Mildred's shaky resolve broke once more and Davina pulled her closer, though was startled that Constance had confided in, of all people, Mildred Hubble.

Amelia's heart stopped as she noticed Constance's chest: it had stopped rising. Her lips were marred with a bluish tinge and the warmth was gone from the hand she held.

'NO,' shrieked the headmistress, 'CONSTANCE!' She cradled Constance in her arms, the child she never knew she had and refused to believe that it was true. Miss Drill knelt beside Constance's head and tried desperately to feel for a pulse.

Mildred looked up, her eyes bright with the terror of a rabbit in the headlights. It was then that she knew that only she could help Miss Hardbroom. It was only her who could bring her back. She stood, leaving the warmth of comforting arms and, wiping the water from her eyes, she started back into the cold room.

'Mildred,' cried Miss Bat, running after her to put a hand on her shoulder, 'you don't have to see this. There's nothing-'

'But there is,' said Mildred, cutting her off. 'Miss Cackle, I know some of what is going on here. I have to try something; I don't know if it will work, but it's the only thing I can think of to save her.' She fought the words catching in her throat. The headmistress looked wild with grief and tragedy, her eyes red and bloodshot from the tears burning her eyes.

'Constance told her,' explained Miss Bat, 'whatever it is, Constance told Mildred; we should at least let her try.' Miss Cackle nodded, returning Constance to the floor and standing up, no longer able to look at the horror story unfolding before her.

Mildred sat beside Miss Hardbroom and took her hand, her cold and lifeless hand. She could not stop her fingers from trembling, but she knew that she didn't need to be strong; she just needed to be there. Mildred closed her eyes and felt the connection between her mind and her teacher's stronger than ever within her head. She was flung into the darkness of Constance's mind, falling deeper until she finally found what she had been looking for.

Constance's eyes were closed, her body like that of a doll being carried away by a cloaked figure with her head lolling in its arms. Mildred tried to run after them but found that something was holding her back; so she did all that she could do.

'YOU BRING HER BACK!' The figure stopped dead in its tracks and turned. Its face was hidden by a hood, but the malevolence in its soul spread around it like an aura, a cold cruelty which touched and poisoned everything in reach.

'She isn't yours to take.' Mildred's voice trembled. She could feel Miss Hardbroom, just clinging on to the final remnants of life in the arms of a stranger.

'She doesn't deserve to die, not here,' Mildred tried, wondering if anything she was saying was getting through, 'so just...just let her go.'

_And why should I do that?_

The voice rang in her head rather than aloud, the deep and gravelly sound of evil with its mocking delight at her pain apparent in its tone.

'Because...because she's needed! You can't just take her,' reasoned Mildred.

_But you...you don't even care for her. Why save her when you could just let her go?_

She could feel it toying with her memories, manipulating every thought and every wish to turn her own mind against her.

'I may not like her, but I would never wish her dead.' At any moment, Mildred feared she would crumble at the figure's will. The weight of this world in between life and death felt heavy on her shoulders.

_She's already on the brink of death; why bring her back just so she can taunt you?_

'I know she only does it because I don't try hard enough. She pushes me where no-one else has and it has made me a better person.' Mildred knew that it was right, but something in the voice made her believe that it wasn't true. She had always known this to be the truth, but as it played so casually with her thoughts she was beginning to doubt her own feelings.

_Do you think she cares for you?_

A stab of pain hit Mildred right at her heart. Did she believe that Miss Hardbroom cared about her? It was impossible to say, impossible to judge. There were so many reasons for her to doubt whether Miss Hardbroom cared, whether if the situation was reversed then she would do the same...

'Miss Hardbroom has saved my life in many ways. She doesn't need to care for me, but no matter what I care for her.' From the depths of her soul, Mildred found the strength she needed and knew that what she believed was true. Yet the laugh, the sound of a child screaming out in pain, was unnerving; why would it laugh at defeat?

_As you wish..._

The figure dropped Miss Hardbroom who fell through the floor and into the dark abyss. Mildred screamed and reached out for her, only to feel something shaking her shoulder.

Xxx

Mildred opened her eyes to find that she was still sat beside Miss Hardbroom, though she could feel fresh tears on her cheeks and the dull ache in her throat told her that she had cried out aloud.

'Mildred, are you alright?' asked Miss Bat who was standing over her.

'I...I'm fine.' She looked to Miss Hardbroom, still lying motionless. 'I...I don't understand...' Without warning, Constance's eyes opened and she gasped for breath. Mildred dropped her hand in surprise, but stayed rooted to the spot not daring to move away.

Amelia spun round, unable to comprehend quite what was happening. She tilted her head upwards in silent prayer: _Thank you._

Constance looked around the room, her eyes moving from person to person. She did not seem scared or even surprised, but more painfully for her friends to watch she looked distant and defeated.

She tried to sit up, but struggled even to move her body an inch. Closing her eyes for a moment, she disappeared, only to materialise on one of the chairs at the long wooden table. Everyone turned to her, demanding an explanation she knew she wasn't quite capable of.

'I would like a moment alone with Mildred,' stated Constance, her voice barely more than a whisper on the wind.

'I have watched you like this for week. I am not about to be put aside-'Constance raised a trembling hand a few centimetres from the surface of the table to silence Amelia, the mother she had never had.

'I will explain everything, to the best of my ability. It is time to take action, but first I need to talk with Mildred. Please...' Miss Cackles stared deeply into Constance's eyes and saw them pleading with her too. In silence, she left with the other teachers and Mildred and Constance were left alone.

'Mildred, have a seat.' She gestured to the chairs closest to her and Mildred took it, not quite able to look her Miss Hardbroom in the eye. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she knew that this conversation would be one of the most difficult of her life.

'Mildred, I asked you not to use the connection.' The girl was baffled, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she was truly lost for words.

'The tie which exists between us is dangerous and I cannot stress to you enough the danger you put everyone in when you use it. Mildred, you must never use it again!' Her tone, though weak, was reprimanding and Mildred just could not understand.

'I saved your life!' she said, astonished at how she could be punished for preventing her death.

'Yes, and however valiant it was, however...you should have left me. If it ever happens again-'

'How can you ask that of me? How can you expect me to watch you die knowing there is something that I could do to bring you back? We need you here, Miss Hardbroom; I need you here.' Constance felt a finger of an indescribable emotion touch her icy heart. She had to be strong; she had to pretend that she did not care because otherwise...otherwise it would just make it even harder.

'Thank you, Mildred, but whatever is happening to me is starting to affect people around me. Whatever this is, it's dangerous and I cannot allow it to hurt others.'

'I have seen you as many things, Miss Hardbroom, but never as a coward,' whispered Mildred, looking away. The words struck a chord in Constance's soul. She had been called many things, yet she had never been branded as cowardly before and it hurt more than she would have liked it to. Could she not see? Could the girl not see that she wasn't doing this for her own benefit? This was a war which ensnared anyone within reach and already, innocent people were beginning to be harmed. Constance was nothing if not fair, and this battle was not just.

'You can't just give up,' Mildred went on; 'you have to fight and you have to win, because otherwise I don't know what will happen.'

'I have tried Mildred, really I have; but nothing works. I can't fight something when I don't even know what it is.'

'You don't have to anymore,' said Mildred, her gaze catching the potion mistress'. 'I saw it, before I came here. I saw the answer.' Constance looked hopelessly into the eyes of a girl so young, so determined and full of hope; she hoped that Mildred would never lose that spark within her. She would never give in, unlike the coward she had discovered herself to be.

'What do you mean?'

'The book,' explained Mildred, 'the one that the Grand Wizard brought. I saw it in my mind and it holds the answer to, well, everything; I'm not sure how yet but I assure you, it does.'

'But it's in a language that no-one can translate,' Constance reminded her.

'I think it's time that someone new tried.'

Constance watched Mildred walk away to invite her colleagues back into the room. She knew, of course, that she had to fight. But why was it suddenly so hard? For years she had been fighting, one thing or another; whether it was her father, her tutor or simply herself. Constance had always found a nemesis; she needed an adversary, someone to compete against and triumph over, though it rarely played out that way. Her many failures in life had shaped her into who she was that day, sitting there, but they had wounded and scarred her tender soul. The truth was that she had wished for death, the truth that would never pass across her lips. She was a coward, as she had wanted the release from a world where she could not find comfort in sleep, or even in solitude. How could she tell a girl of no more than fourteen that she had wanted to be taken away, to lose her last battle and leave to the peace of whatever lay beyond? Yet she knew that she would never have been granted such a gift, such a precious and tainted euphoria.

It was now that she had to fight. It was time for everything to end, one way or another. It was time to tell the truth and battle the demons haunting her mind and soul until either of them won, triumphant in a war without a single drop of blood being spilt but with even more at stake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hellooo :) Next chapter here, had quite a bit of trouble writing this one so be kind XD Next chapter is more from Constance PoV rather than being explanatory so should be up soon !**

**Enjoy**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Constance sat with her head in her hands, hearing the muffled sound of Mildred accompanying her colleagues back into the room as if they were a thousand miles away. Her head was thumping, pain radiating from her temples to the rest of her body in a never ending current of agony. When had the world become so unfair? She didn't know what Miss Cackle expected of her. She could not even think where to begin to explain what was happening to her, yet she knew that she had to try.

She felt Amelia's presence beside her, a warm and comforting feeling which spread through the air surrounding her to tell her that she was there and that everything would be alright. In any other situation, the pity and sympathy Constance could feel in the headmistress' glare would have sickened her to the point of rage; but she hadn't even the energy for that anymore.

Miss Cackle sat next to Constance with the patient of a mother consoling a child. She had never quite realised how much Constance meant to her until that day. Of course, she knew that the school could not run without her and although she was strict, she was the voice of authority and reason; but it was more than that. Amelia looked at the woman who could not quite catch her eye, choosing only to look straight ahead. She stared at the sadness in her faded gaze and the ashen face of a ghost; it pained her to see her like this, her throat constricting and her mouth dry with the knowledge that she was suffering so much.

She needed Constance. She was the child she never bore, the friend she could always rely on and the deputy ever loyal; but she was fading, bleeding into the background and becoming lost within her misery.

'I wouldn't even know where to begin,' Constance whispered. A flicker of contempt crossed her face as she heard the weakness and vulnerability in her own tone; she had to remind herself what was important now.

'Just take your time,' said Miss Cackle smoothly. Constance could see her face was kind, but fraught with worry. She had never asked for the concern of others and she never would, yet there was something comforting in her gentle eyes.

'There really is no need for fuss,' she began, ignoring the almost angry look of disbelief in each one of the women's eyes.

Miss Bat and Miss Drill stood behind Miss Cackle ready to listen and Constance felt suddenly as though she was being ambushed, pushed into a corner and forced to confess. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in and Constance found that the air was thin. She could hardly breathe, suffocating under the weight of it all as the room became smaller and smaller.

'Constance?' Her eyes snapped open, alert though betraying a hint of the terror bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Amelia looked even more terrified than she was, her expression begging her to at least tell her what was wrong. Constance sighed, the heavy sigh which threatened to let the tears in her eyes break free.

'I don't know what it is, but there is something...manipulating my mind,' Constance finally admitted. The feeling of a weight lifting from her shoulders was almost euphoric, but she could feel her cheeks hot with embarrassment.

'I thought that they were just dreams, nightmares caused by stress,' she continued, 'but I know now that they can't be. I wake up and the marks are still there, still bleeding...It's starting to affect me even when I'm awake, pulling me back...back to that place.' She shuddered, pausing to gather her shattered thoughts.

'I don't know where it is, but it seem like...' Constance couldn't quite find the word.

'Hell,' Mildred whispered, coming forward and sitting on the chair beside Miss Cackle.

'Mildred?' She knew that the headmistress was asking her to elaborate as she could see the pain it was causing Constance to relive such raw, cutting memories.

'I've seen it,' explained Mildred. 'It seems that we, Miss Hardbroom and I, have a telepathic connection and I have seen the place she's referring to.' Her mind tried to resist the memories of a place which haunted her still, but Mildred knew that she had to. Miss Hardbroom had suffered far more than she had and she owed her this much.

'There's fire and men who hide their faces under cloaks. They cast spells, ones I've never seen before and they have knives...' Miss Bat ran over and embraced her, saving her from the pain of having to go on.

'No-one should have to see that,' muttered Miss Hardbroom, 'I shouldn't have allowed it to get this far.'

'But there is nothing that you could have done,' Miss Cackle assured her, daring to place her hand on Constance's. She felt her muscles tense at first, unused to the affection of another, but relax in a submission which scared the headmistress,

'So...what do we do?' asked Imogen, a voice of reason hungry to act. She had never been one to stand by and watch others suffer; the rage rushing through her veins at the injustice of it all was almost too much to control.

Miss Bat let go of Mildred who broke away, calmer now but still shaking involuntarily from shock of it all.

'The book,' she said simply, turning to where she had been standing before and picking the box Egbert Hellibore had delivered so long ago, and that she had collected after her talk with Miss Hardbroom. She placed the box on the table, opening the lid which let out a puff of smoke which shimmered, as though a thousand tiny diamonds were dancing in the swirls of grey before they faded, lost to the air. Mildred brought out the book, feeling its power course through her fingertips merely at its touch. She opened the first page for everyone to see, but Miss Hardbroom sighed hopelessly.

'Nobody knows what language it is in,' she explained, 'the symbols don't make any sense.' It was true. Miss Cackle tried to make out even a pattern from the indecipherable scrawl which covered the page but saw nothing.

Mildred stared at the symbols, looking at each one in turn and concentrating hard. Without warning, she gasped as they rearranged themselves on the page, the symbols morphing to form words and pictures before her.

'What is it Mildred?' asked Miss Cackle kindly.

'I...I can read it!' she exclaimed. Miss Hardbroom's head shot up. A glimmer of hope, just for a moment, banished the pain from her head and she wondered if Mildred really could hold the solution she had thought may never come.

Yet at the same time doubt crept, like a parasite moving silently to invade a host, and tainted her thoughts. She feared what Mildred could find before she even began to read and expected before the colour left the girl's face that nothing was as perfect as it seemed to be.

Mildred read every word on the page twice. She felt the happiness and hope from a moment ago drain from her body more quickly than it had arrived and her heart pounded, like the ticking of a clock, against her ribs.

'What does it say?' inquired Imogen impatiently.

Mildred began the story. It was a story of ancient significance, which could change all of their lives forever.

'Many years ago, there was a demon that controlled the underworld with force and power; though he was selfish. He had control, but he wanted more. He tried to reach out into the mortal realm, though as he did not belong there his power was weakened and he was pulled back, vanquished by his greed and envy. He left a pledge before he went, a promise that a man would one day help him return and he would conquer everything that he felt was owed to him.'

'But to return a demon of such power to the mortal realm, a sacrifice has to be given.' Mildred read the next line and she could have sworn that her heart stopped beating. She could barely utter the words, feeling sick to her stomach.

'A...a powerful witch must host the demon, who will...who will take her mind and magic to force himself back into the land of the living,' she whispered.

The room was silent. Everyone understood; the realisation was a powerful blow to what they knew as reality which had knocked the room out of sync with the rest of the world. They all tried not to look at Constance, but she could feel their hearts sinking with her own. The eyes, those of a demon, flashed across her mind and mocked her with their brightness. She could feel his presence now, pulsing like a vein in the back of her mind and threatening at any moment to take her over completely. She knew that he had the power to, yet she could also see that he was waiting for the right time. Now she knew what it was, she could almost feel what he felt. She could sense the agitation of a wait of a thousand years drawing to a close but also the cruelty and malice which came deep from his soul.

Constance drew back, not wanting to delve any further into the mind of an entity so dark and also fearing what else she could find.

'People have tried before,' Mildred went on, her bottom lip still quivering and tears welling in her eyes as she tried to be strong.

'I'm guessing that they did not succeed,' said Constance dryly.

Every bone in Mildred's body told her not to read the final words on the page. No-one else could read them; she could just close the book and leave the words to rot. Yet her innocent mind could not hold the knowledge in a selfish act; they needed to know.

'The presence of a demon in a witch's mind, even one of considerable power, is a fate which few have the ability to withstand. All of the w-witches who h-have tried so far...'

'Have died,' Constance finished gently. Mildred sat down once more, pushing the book away as if it was the one at fault. Miss Cackle turned to Constance, her expression pure dismay.

'For an entity to return to the mortal realm it would take time and energy, but I assume that those who have tried before have not been powerful enough to host it until the time is right,' Constance explained.

'But this is surely ridiculous,' complained Miss Drill. 'There's no such thing as demons, or possession or any of that! Just in the myths and legends you read as a child.'

'All myths stem from truth,' said Miss Hardbroom wisely, 'and there has been much literature devoted to the study of the unexplainable, with much pointing to demonic activity.'

Amelia closed her eyes, trying to block out the rest of the world to think everything through. How could Constance be so calm? She could feel the clock ticking, the timer running; at any moment the final grains of sand could fall through the hourglass. All the headmistress knew for certain was that they were all in danger if they could not find an escape from such an awful fate.

'Does the book say what we can do?' asked Miss Bat. Mildred shook her head.

'There is only one thing we can do,' said Constance assertively. She got to her feet, but her legs buckled almost immediately from the strain and she had to grip the table hard to prevent herself from falling. Her head was swimming. The room for a moment was a blur of colour; an impressionist's painting on the canvas of reality. She forced herself to focus. Looking at the room, sombre and at a loss for words, she knew that she had to be strong. She was Constance Hardbroom, unshakable and granite-like in the face of disaster; nothing could bring the tears to hear eyes.

'I am assuming that whoever has summoned this demon must be nearby, as such magic needs a close range to work at full power. They cannot be far from here and will be easy to detect, so I just need to-'

'_You_ just need to?' asked Miss Cackle, standing up to her full height to try and equal Constance's stature.

'If you think that I am letting you go anywhere alone, then think again Constance Hardbroom. You can barely stand as it is, though you never would admit defeat, would you? No, I will accompany you if Imogen and Davina will hold the fort?' Both nodded at once.

'I'm coming too,' said a meek voice from below. Mildred look up, her eyes red from crying and her expression exhausted and emotionally drained.

'Mildred, I-'

'No, Miss Cackle. I know it will be dangerous, but I'm the only person who could help if...if things don't go to plan.' The words did not need to be said aloud. Mildred was the only one who could help Constance if she was pulled back into the fiery depths of a hell they now knew was more than just fiction.

'Mildred, I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger for me,' Constance said, a shimmer of genuine concern behind the steely certainty in her tone.

'You are putting yourself in danger for us, for everyone, and have been suffering in silence since whenever this began. I'm not staying her plagued with the knowledge that there is something I could do to help.'

Miss Hardbroom couldn't deny the girl, but she made a solemn oath to protect her with her life. She felt shaky even standing, a poor imitation of the woman she had always been known to be; she felt obsolete at the forefront of a battle between worlds, but she was the only person who could fight it. In the back of her mind, she heard a booming laugh. It, he, whatever it was, knew that she was trying to fight and laughed at her inferiority. She was sure, however, that it would underestimate her. All it had seen of her so far was a witch being forced to fold at the power of a demon, but it knew nothing of the force of nature willing to defend the school and those she cared for despite herself, until the bitter end.

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><p><strong>XD Thanks, btw, to all reviewers so far :P <strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Hellooo everyone XD Getting close to the final chapters now (sobbing) but the climax is still to come!**

**Would really appreciate reviews as I have no idea if this chapter is any good :S LOL **

**Enjoy anyway, more soon hopefully!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

The sun was fading, the sky a palette of a thousand colours merging as one. Constance stared out of the window, not just knowing but feeling that her time was running short. The demon was at greater power at night, taking advantage of when the world was most vulnerable and let its guard down to sleep. They needed to go.

Constance turned to the rest of the silent room; no-one knew what to say. Mildred was trying to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks but they would not cease, cascading like waterfalls of emotion. Constance had never meant for her to become involved, an innocent person caught up in matters a young girl should not have to worry about. It made her angry to know that because of this indescribable thing lurking in the depths of her mind Mildred was suffering, and it made her want to fight it even more; though she could feel her strength and her will wearing thin.

'So...when...' stuttered Miss Cackle, still trying to wrap her mind around the impossible ideas being presented to her.

'It has to be soon. It's growing stronger and there isn't much time left,' Miss Hardbroom demanded. Mildred looked up at her sadly; she knew precisely what her potions teacher meant. She meant that she was growing weaker and that there was not much time left for her, though only a flash in her eyes gave this away. Mildred stood, trying desperately to wipe her eyes and showing that she was ready to go.

'Imogen, Davina, will you be able to keep the girls occupied whilst we are gone?' asked Amelia, rising with the others and realising how time was so against them.

'Yes, but...I don't understand,' confessed Miss Drill. She could sense that the situation was dire, but could not quite comprehend what was about to happen. The only thing she had quite understood by this point was that Constance was in danger; they all were.

'We have to go, but I will try and explain everything further when we get back; there isn't time now,' stated Amelia. She looked at Constance, who was clearly determined but unable to hide her tiredness behind a strong facade.

'I shall meet you both outside,' instructed Constance, 'I need to get a few things.' Reluctantly, Amelia made to leave with Mildred trailing sadly behind. Miss Bat went to make tea and Constance could swear that she saw her wipe a tear from her eye. She looked once at Miss Drill before folding her arms and vanishing.

She materialised in her room, surprised that her aching limbs had allowed her to travel that far, though she crumpled at once to the floor in a graceful heap. It took almost all of her energy to force herself back up, but she needed to test her magic, know the limits of her strength before she called upon them to defend herself.

Constance ambled slowly over to the large wooden wardrobe, taking her flowing black cloak from where it had been hanging on the door and wrapping it around her shoulders. The darkness was looming now, threatening to cast a spell over the sun and plunge the castle into an unrelenting blackness. Constance summoned a potion from her desk, finding it less draining than simply to walk the few steps it took. As it was everything was a struggle; her chest even ached from breathing. She could not go on like this, especially not if she was forced to travel, so she drained the dark bottle of its murky contents and felt a surge of power as it began to work. It was a last attempt, for the last frontier.

Materialising in the courtyard where Mildred and Amelia were waiting, Constance only took a moment to regain her composure and at once knew the potion was working. She despised the pitying look that Miss Cackle was giving her but did not want to waste her newfound strength with an argument.

She began to walk towards the gates, taking long and powerful strides which invited Mildred and the headmistress to hurry alongside.

'Would it not be easier to fly, Constance?' Amelia asked, struggling to keep up.

'Wherever this person is, they will be in close proximity and stationed somewhere permanent; they need to be on the ground and close at hand,' Constance explained. She quickened her pace as they left through Walker's Gate, the darkening sky giving a short warning.

Before long, dusk had fallen and the biting cold was beginning to stab at Constance's cheeks. She had slowed considerably, something which had not gone unnoticed by Amelia who was watching her every move in case something happened, and fallen slightly behind allowing Mildred to take an uneasy lead.

Mildred looked across at Miss Cackle, in two minds about whether to voice her fears.

'What is it, Mildred?' she asked kindly, as though she had heard exactly what Mildred was saying in her mind. She smiled gently,

'It's written across your face,' Miss Cackle explained.

'It's nothing really,' admitted Mildred, 'but I suppose I'm just worried about Miss Hardbroom. With the connection between us, it's like I can feel what she's going through sometimes.'

'And?'

'And she's a very good liar. She can cover her feelings well, but I can feel how weak she is and it scares me.' Mildred bit back tears and lowered her head slightly, pretending to brace herself against the harsh wind whirling through the trees.

'It scares me too, Mildred,' Amelia replied quietly, 'but Miss Hardbroom knows what she is doing. She is strong, even though her body may be weak.' Mildred forced a meagre smile.

'But the thing is Miss Cackle, I don't think that she is anymore.'

'No, she's not.' Mildred and Miss Cackle turned. The voice was Miss Hardbroom's, but it had an unfamiliar quality to it that Mildred couldn't quite place. When she saw her potions mistress, she gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She was standing, her hair loose and flying behind her like a kite, with an unnerving smile that was not her own spreading across her face. Mildred noticed her eyes, flashing red and black, and knew that she was no longer addressing Miss Constance Hardbroom.

'What have you done?' Mildred cried against the now howling wind.

'Oh, it's easy really,' the demon laughed, distorting Constance's voice with a cruelty it had never held, 'once I conquered her mind taking over wasn't a stretch too far.'

'Why? Why can't you just let her go?' Amelia shouted.

'Where's the fun in that? She was offered to me, the sacrifice to allow my return, and very shortly I will take her power and her life; and I will return. She is strong, very strong; most of the others barely lasted a few days. But I have her mind now, it is mine to do with as I wish and I am telling you now, that your feeble attempts will not stop me.'

Mildred did not know what to do. She looked pleadingly to Miss Cackle who was standing by her side, completely aghast.

'Tricky one, isn't it? A conundrum if ever there was one. You can't hurt me without hurting her; would you take that risk?' It laughed again, the sound booming like thunder and echoing through the trees which bowed in the wind.

'Well, if you won't hurt me...' The demon raised Constance's hands and began to cast a spell which was aimed at Mildred. A stream of light flowed from her fingertips and hit Mildred square in the chest, causing her to stagger back. She braced herself for pain, closing her eyes falling onto the wet leaves at the mercy of a much more powerful being; but it didn't come. Mildred opened her eyes to see Miss Cackle at her side, but all of the light could not quite reach its target; something was stopping it from getting to her completely and she simply laid, stunned and winded but perfectly fine.

The demon shrieked in despair as Constance fought back, pulling herself back into her body and taking control. She opened her eyes a fraction to see Mildred and Miss Cackle lying before her; it made her fight even more. The demon receded, defeated for now but aware that the time was coming for its triumph. Constance heard its dying laugh as it retreated to the back of her mind and soon discovered why.

The magic she had been casting at Mildred dispersed, only to reform as a ball of light and launch itself at Constance. Her eyes widened in horror as the light enveloped her, agony as she had never felt burning throughout every fibre of her being.

'NO!' Miss Cackle screamed. She helped Mildred to her feet before trying to reach her screaming deputy, the sound so hopeless and agonising she felt it penetrate her very soul. The light forced Amelia back, though disappeared as Constance fell to the ground. As soon as they were able, both Mildred and Amelia ran to the deputy headmistress and tried to think of something they could do to help.

Constance half opened her eyes, glad to discover that she was once again in control. The light was gone, but she could still feel it within her and as she tried to move it sent a crippling pain across her abdomen which caused her to cry out and double over in desperation. Her head was heavy and everything was agony; even keeping her eyes from closing felt as if it was the greatest task.

'What do we do?' pleaded Mildred, tears falling from her eyes. Miss Cackle raised her arms and muttered a spell, the only one she could think of.

The effects were disastrous. Constance writhed in unbelievable pain, her mind seeming to disconnect from her body as everything, from the forest to her companions, disappeared; everything, to her, was gone except the pain.

'Oh God...' Amelia sat back in disbelief as to what she had just done. She was lost, watching her dearest friend suffer at her own hand and she didn't think that she could take much more.

Constance could feel the sense of hopelessness she knew was coming from Mildred and Amelia. She was the strong one, the one they turned to in times of crisis and she had to act. Lifting her arm, which felt impossibly heavy, she began to chant unknown words which simply fell from her lips as a spell. She felt the energy which had caused her such agony dying within her and as she fell silent, she was left only with the burning sensation which covered her entire body.

She forced her eyes to open, seeing the stunned faces watching over her and begging for an explanation. For the first time in her life, she reached out her arm and, without uttering a word, asked for Mildred to help her stand.

Mildred put her arm cautiously around Miss Hardbroom's waist and pulled her up, feeling her potions teacher's reliance on her weight for support. She was so weak, thought Mildred sadly, and she wondered just what was left for her to fight with. She had battled the demon again to save her, and once more paid the price; she would never let another suffer for her and it was killing her.

'We have to get back to the castle,' said Amelia decisively, 'you can't even stand, Constance.' Her tone was firm but gentle, though Constance shook her head.

'It's too late,' she replied, her voice lacking any of the conviction it usually held, 'it needs to be now, otherwise I won't even make it to the castle.' The thought was grave, almost too much for Mildred to bear as more tears fell. Constance was still leaning heavily on her, not even able to take her own weight.

'But we don't even know what we're doing!' Miss Cackle exclaimed hopelessly.

Constance broke free of Mildred's grip, almost falling back but managing, just, to steady herself. She walked slowly and unsurely forwards, ignoring Miss Cackle's protests. It had to be now, there was no alternative option. Amelia and Mildred watched in awe as Constance walked through the darkness and vanished before their eyes. It took a few minutes for them to comprehend quite what had happened.

'It's...I think it's a gateway,' Mildred followed Miss Hardbroom's path and she herself disappeared into the ether. Miss Cackle had no choice but to follow suit, leaving the realm of the forest and appearing a place concealed in the dead of night. Constance didn't have much longer, she could feel it, but she didn't know what else she could do.

In the forest, the trees bent to the cruel wind's hand. The darkness had finally won, taking over the landscape and covering the castle in the uncertainty of night. Magic crackled in the air, a spark like electricity cracking through the night sky. Something was coming. The moon was no more than a memory, hidden behind a veil of dark cloud as the stars blinked, astounded at how easily the land had fallen to the night. All they could do was watch and wait, the fate of millions resting on one woman's shoulders...

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><p><strong>*Uses magic HB powers to conjure a big arrow pointing to the review link XD<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**OK quick little chapter, one of the shortest for a while, but I am trying to perfect this ending so am doing it in stages :) Plus I couldn't leave such avid readers on a big cliffie!**

**Enjoy and let me know what you think...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Constance opened her eyes to find herself in total darkness. She had fallen through what seemed to be a gateway, concealed in the forest, and was lying uncomfortably on the ground. Pushing herself up to sitting position, she felt hard, cold stone beneath her hands. Her head was swimming, heavy and dazed from the impact against the hard floor and her body involuntarily shuddered against the cold, stagnant air.

'M-Miss Hardbroom?' A meek voice called out from somewhere in the distance.

'I am here Mildred are you alright?' Constance replied, trying to disguise her own frailty with a strong tone of voice.

'Yes, I'm fine and Miss Cackle is here as well. Where are we?' Mildred was trying her best to stay composed, but it was not difficult for Constance to sense how frightened she was. If she had been able to keep her from all of this, to protect her, then she would have given anything.

_Ignis creare_

_Nox superabat_

_Lucis maximus_

At once, fire erupted from Constance's fingertips and formed a ball in front of her, enlightening the room with a red fiery glow. Her eyes darted across the floor and up the walls as she took in her surroundings. They appeared to be in some sort of cavern, the stone walls reaching high into the pitch blackness above her.

Moisture ran down the hard rock face, droplets of water running away from the darkness until they pooled in a puddle on the ground. Extending her fingers, Constance pushed the ball of light as high as it would go so that its light was cast across the whole of the cavern. She murmured another spell beneath her breath and the ball grew larger, the bright light now illuminating every corner she could see. The power required by the spell was great, draining what little energy she had rather than her magic, and Constance was trying her best not to fall back onto the cold ground and keep her heavy eyes from closing.

Mildred blinked as her sore eyes got used to the light once more. Miss Cackle was kneeling beside her catching her breath; she looked across at her young pupil and put a gentle comforting on her shoulder. Mildred looked across for Miss Hardbroom, who she saw expel the light high into the air and begin to tremble, the weakness she would never divulge more painfully apparent. She got to her feet, running across to her teacher and crouching beside her.

'Are you alright Miss?' she asked, selfishly desperate for the assurance that everything would be alright.

'I...I will be,' breathed Constance, 'I just need a moment.' Miss Cackle walked over to join them.

'Constance, you need to rest. We should never have come here,' she said, voicing her concerns.

'There is nothing else that we could have done; wherever we are, it is where we need to be,' replied Constance wisely. The element of fight, that strong and forceful edge to her voice had long since disappeared and Amelia looked down, still unable to accept the true gravity of the situation.

Every last drop of colour had been flushed from Constance's pale face. Just staying awake was tiresome; the temptation to simply close her eyes and allow herself to be dragged under was overwhelming. Mildred looked helplessly at her potions mistress, trying to think of anything that she could do.

'Would you like some help getting up?' she asked tentatively. For a moment, she saw the old flare in Miss Hardbroom's eyes, the fiery rage of being seen as inferior glowing; but she had to concede. She took the arm Mildred reached out to her and pulled herself painfully into standing position. She walked slowly over to the cavern wall, her hand reaching out to touch the rough surface as she leant against it. There was precious little time.

Mildred looked around the unusual place they had all fallen into.

'Where are we?'

'I would guess that the gateway from the woods opened passage to a place concealed by magic, though where we are exactly I could not say,' explained Constance.

'You said that we needed to be here,' reminded Amelia, struggling to completely understand. Constance nodded solemnly.

'I could feel it, out in the woods; this is where the source of the magic is coming from. Whoever raised the demon, they are here.' At once, Amelia and Mildred looked nervously over their shoulders, as though there could be someone behind them ready to jump out at any moment.

Tension hung in the air, the feeling that someone was watching looming over them as they waited. It was like there was another presence lingering in the room, a watchful eye preparing to strike...but only when the time was right.

Constance gasped, a sudden pain shooting to her forehead and momentarily blinding her. Instinctively, she let go of the wall and made to crumple, her legs giving way. Amelia moved swiftly to catch her, holding Constance in her arms to keep her from falling and looking around desperately to see what had caused her deputy such pain. Mildred was standing in front of the headmistress, suddenly very protective of her incapacitated teacher.

'Only a coward hides behind their actions,' called Mildred bravely, a sudden surge of adrenalin coursing through her veins. Constance's eyes fluttered weakly open and she straightened, though remained leaning heavily on the headmistress.

'Very well.' The voice rang out, echoing through the large and empty space like the voice of God calling to his people. It was a man's voice, a voice of the wisdom which came with age yet a nip of cruelty and mockery tainting his tone. Amelia felt Constance's grip on her arm tighten. She had not, even by now, seen the younger woman truly scared before; as she looked at Constance now, her expression aghast and her deep brown eyes wide and alert, she saw genuine fear beneath the tough exterior only at the sound of a voice.

'It can't be...' she whispered, disbelief stunting her speech.

A man appeared before them, materialising from thin air. His hair was a deep metallic grey, the lines on his face bending as his mouth twisted into a knowing smile. His eyes danced with glee, the fire from the ball of light reflecting in his eyes which shone like glistening orbs. He looked straight at Constance, not saying a word but knowing exactly what she was thinking; he knew her so well after all.

'You...' was all Constance could manage. She had never thought she would have to face this man again. It was clear to her now. He had watched her grow, seen her develop her skills to become a powerful witch; powerful enough to be sacrificed in order to bring back demons long banished.

She did not need to know what had happened since the last time that she had seen him, she could tell just from looking. The man she had once admired and respected had become obsessed with selfish greed, the hunger flashing in his eyes as he neared his goal. He had become something detestable, a zealous person so devoted to the pursuit of skill and power that his quest had consumed him; there was nothing left of the man he used to be. So willing was he to give everything for the taste of raw energy, pure magic and infinite power, that he was willing to raise a demon.

And to sacrifice his only daughter.

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><p><strong>OK there was another small cliffhanger, don't shoot! We shall soon find out how the story ends...<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**OK sorry for a little wait after the cliffhanger XD Hope you enjoy the latest, now there are only two or three chapters left so I am trying to make them as good as they can be!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

'Constance?' Amelia looked worriedly at her deputy, who seemed too frightened even to acknowledge what was going on. She simply leant against Miss Cackle, trying to fight the overwhelming tiredness threatening her stance and staring at the man before her, her father. Their eyes locked, sparks passing between them. Mildred looked from one to the other; she could sense feelings that were not hers welling in her chest and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander into that of another's.

'Constance who is that?' Amelia tried, shaking her arm gently. Constance couldn't quite find the strength respond. She simply stared at him, feeling things that she had not known she could feel. Where there should have been love, the love of a daughter for her parent, there was only hate; a dark void of endless hate which felt as though it had the power to consume her. But after everything she had done, after all she had achieved in her life, she was better than he was and she was not going to let hate and vengeance destroy her; not for the sake of such a pitiful human being.

Mildred shuddered as she felt the dark emotions stirring in Miss Hardbroom's mind. She saw flashes, memories she was not meant to see. There were images, of a girl standing in front of the man in the cavern and crying as he brought his hand down against her cheek, which were too horrible for Mildred to bear, so she simply looked away; though she knew that would not stop the scream from sounding. She could feel the presence of the demon and knew that it was powerful, almost ready to take Miss Hardbroom's mind so that it could return to the mortal realm and laughing with delight.

Gasping, Mildred opened her eyes and stumbled back a few steps. Constance tore her gaze away from her father's and looked concernedly at Mildred.

'Ah yes,' he said smoothly, an unnatural smile creeping across his face, 'the girl with the telepathic power. An inconvenience at first, but perhaps we could make use of you.' Constance turned back to him, her eyes flashing with anger.

'You dare touch her, and so help me I will strike you down no matter who you are to me.' He was taken aback at first by the ferocity in her voice but smiled once more.

'You've changed, Con' he laughed, 'you never had this much fight in you.'

Amelia looked Constance straight in the eyes and asked again.

'Who is he?' she insisted. Constance tried to tell her, but she couldn't find the words. Perhaps she wasn't quite ready to admit it to herself, yet nevertheless her throat was dry and the words were lost.

'He's her father,' said Mildred quietly. She was resting against the wall, drained from the energy taken to enter Miss Hardbroom's mind. She could hear the demon now, its callous voice laughing with the sound of raging thunder, as though it was in her own head.

Amelia turned to the man, astonished.

'Yes, this is my daughter, though I was rather hoping she would have fallen by now; he is not the most patient of people,' he said without an ounce of remorse.

'How could you?' Amelia asked. Constance moved back to Mildred, stumbling slightly as she walked though it didn't matter to her anymore; she just needed to check that she was alright. Miss Cackle took a step towards the man before her, building herself up to her full height.

'What do you mean?' he replied politely.

'What do you get from this? Power, I presume, or magic perhaps? What is the price for your daughter's life?' Constance's father threw back his head and laughed.

'Oh spare me the lecture Amelia,' he said. 'Don't talk about what you don't understand. He needs to be free, he needs what he is owed and I am merely helping him.'

'But at what cost! That demon had no right to be here in the first place, and raising it again will end everything! Perhaps it is you that does not understand,' reasoned Amelia. There was something about his smile which unnerved her, more than she dared to dwell upon. She knew that he must have power and knew just as well that she was no match for him.

'I do understand perfectly. A witch must die to bring the demon back; a witch with the power to harbour another consciousness and the magic to fuel its return. You should be flattered really Constance, you truly are the most powerful witch I have ever met. I am sorry that it has to be this way,' he apologised, though his tone was scathing and lacked any emotion other than a hint of sickening joy.

'Not as sorry as you are going to be,' spat Constance, her arm around Mildred whose whole body was shaking with terror.

'Now that was uncalled for,' Constance's father said darkly, his smile vanishing as in an instant.

'Perhaps I should remind you who is in charge here?' He flexed the fingers of his right hand briefly and Amelia's eyes widened in horror.

Constance felt it before she felt the pain, the unleashing of the demon in her mind as rapid and unstoppable as a dam breaking its banks and havoc flowing in its wake. Before the world went dark, she muttered a spell beneath her breath and blocked the connection between her mind and Mildred's; if she could do nothing else, she could spare her from having to see more than a young girl should.

But using her magic made her weak. Her futile resistance fell, crumbling to dust as a greater power rose within her. She stifled a scream, biting hard on her lip as her head exploded and she doubled over in pain, her eyes forced closed as agony enthralled her body. She fell to her knees, one hand pressed to her head and the other across her abdomen as her body became immersed in bright red flames; they licked at her skin and caressed her cheeks, the power of nature it yielded simple yet destructive. Constance could hear the fire crackling around her, though she did not feel its heat burning her skin. She could feel only pain as her mind fell through the never ending darkness into the depths of what she thought had to be madness.

Mildred screamed and jumped back, Miss Cackle catching her around the shoulder and pulling her close, hiding her innocent eyes from the horrors unfolding. She could not take her eyes from Constance, who let out a last muffled cry of anguish before falling lifeless to the floor. The fire which had covered her body extinguished, the only trace a wisp of smoke which danced in the air before fading to nothing.

Amelia turned to Constance's father with pure disdain and rage in her eyes. She kept Mildred close to her in a kind yet firm embrace; she could feel her sobbing silently into her dress.

'How could you do that to her? She was not threat to you. How could any human being do that to their own daughter, let alone anyone else?'

His face showed no humanity, no guilt or compassion having just struck his own daughter down unconscious.

'She needed to be reminded of who was in charge. I didn't kill her,' he added, as though that was something he should be proud of, 'I simply...neutralised her.' Mildred retrieved her head from where it had been buried in Miss Cackle's dress and looked at her motionless potions mistress.

'And before you even think about that,' Constance's father said knowingly to Mildred, 'she cast a spell before I could get to her to block you from her mind; probably why she fell so easily.' His face lit up with pleasure at teasing Mildred, whose face was fraught with anguish.

'Don't you even speak to her,' snapped Amelia. She crouched a little so that she was on Mildred's level.

'Miss Hardbroom is going to be fine, don't listen to a word that he is saying,' reassured Miss Cackle kindly.

'He's just trying to get to you; don't let him win.'

'I...I won't Miss,' whispered Mildred in reply. Amelia looked across to Constance and ran over, bending down and brushing her long dark hair from across her face. Placing a hand in front of her mouth, Amelia felt a very meagre brush of air to prove to her that the man she perceived as the personification of evil had not been lying and that Constance was still alive.

Her face was no longer pale, but tinged red from where the fire had caught her skin; her hand had been burned, though she seemed relatively unscathed. At that thought Amelia almost laughed at the irony; Constance had barely suffered a scratch, yet the headmistress knew she was close to letting go. As she took Constance's limp hand in her own and squeezed it in assurance, she could almost feel the pull something was having on her deputy's life and Amelia knew that Constance, despite her fighting was only just managing to hang on.

Mildred took Constance's other hand, tears falling silently onto the ground as she knelt beside her. Amelia straightened and turned furiously back to him, the obvious amusement in his eyes causing her stomach to churn in disgust. The maternal instinct she felt for Constance kicked in, and she became the mother bear protecting her cub with her life and ready to fight to the death.

She cast a spell, muttering the words at speed beneath her breath and firing arrows of colour at the man who had caused so much pain to so many. Despite his laid back attitude, he waved his hand and they disappeared before they could do any harm.

'Now now Amelia, you don't want to do this,' he warned, his tone patronising yet hinting that he was serious.

'Oh, I think that I do,' Miss Cackle retorted with confidence. She would not allow him to get away with what he had done and planned to do without trying to stop him.

He conjured a ball of light without the need for words and sent it towards he headmistress, though she deflected it back to him which caught him off guard, knocking him back a few feet. He scowled, his face changing to what seemed like the face of a different man as his soft features contorted with anger.

Mildred could only watch as the battle raged, bright streams of magic flying through the air Miss Cackle only just able to hold her own. She turned to Miss Hardbroom, trying to enter her mind to bring her back but finding the enchantment was still in place.

'Please Miss Hardbroom,' pleaded Mildred, her eyes welling with fresh tears, 'we need you.'

The words echoed, remnants of life sounding through the darkness where Constance found herself. She had honestly thought that she had died; that she had left the world behind to whatever lay beyond, though hearing Mildred's voice calling to her assured her that she was not yet ready. Her life had been dedicated to the school, to the pupils, and as long as they needed her she simply couldn't go. She could not say from where she found the strength, though she sensed that it was deep within her soul and, painfully and reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

Amelia stumbled backwards, the force and power of the spells colliding with her weakening her considerably. For an older man, he was agile and swift with magic she could not continue to match. She took a second to breathe whilst drawing her energy to her fingertips and blindly hoping that he would fall before she did, though struggling to believe it could be possible.

'M-Miss?' stuttered Mildred as she watched her potions mistress' eyes flutter open.

'I am fine thank you Mildred, before you ask,' lied Constance through gritted teeth as she sat up, feeling how her energy reserves were low despite her reawakening. She looked across and her eyes softened in concern and sadness as she saw Miss Cackle fighting her father, fighting for her.

_This was a war I should be waging alone_ thought Constance. She had not wanted anyone else involved and now more than ever her mind was wracked with guilt as others laid their lives on the line for her; she could allow it no more.

Mildred gasped as Miss Hardbroom vanished, reappearing between her father and Miss Cackle and raising her arms to stop the flow of magic either way and create an invisible barrier of magic between them.

'Thank you, Amelia; I can take it from here.' It was not a request and Amelia knew that nothing she could say would convince her deputy otherwise. She nodded and went back to Mildred, taking a moment to catch her breath and recover; it had been years since she had duelled even close to as fiercely.

'Feeling brave are we Con?' her father addressed her mockingly.

'You lost the right to call me that a long time ago,' scolded Constance. 'Too much has happened that need not have; let's finish this now.' She shot a stream of magic from her fingertips, dispersing the barrier and sending her father flying back towards the wall. He simply laughed,

'I knew you were powerful Con but I never really saw you in action; I am impressed.' Constance tried again, her magic pushing him further away and she saw a flicker of pain and surprise in his otherwise unfathomable eyes before she felt her strength begin to fail and drew back.

'You are right about something though,' he snarled, straightening up and looking straight into her pain-stricken eyes as he walked towards her. He could see how tired she was, the energy it was even taking to stand weighing down heavily on her lean frame. He wondered if he had ever felt love for her, though could not recall a time when he had. Their relationship had never been simple, and after the death of her mother they had only grown further apart.

He blamed her for her mother's death, though he did not know how it could be her fault; illness had taken her in the end, though she never had been the same since their daughter had been born. She had loved Constance with all of her heart, though he could never forgive her for taking away his wife and had treated her the only way he knew how; with an iron fist.

She had been sent away to Witch Training College at the earliest opportunity, his hands finally clean of her; and now, because of her, he would gain power like he had never dreamed of. His body craved it, his cells screaming for the rush which came as his veins coursed with magic and he was in control of anything and everything. He should have been grateful to her; after all, it was her life in exchange for his power. Though to him, she could have been any witch; she was no daughter of his.

'Let's finish this; it's time. FINITE!' His cries echoed through the cavern and Constance felt her mind break before she could even try to stop it. The demon was rising up, ready to return, and there was nothing in its way.

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><p><strong>Mini cliffhanger XD I couldn't not, given what is coming next...ooh I can feel the intrigue!<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Tiny quick authors note :) Penultimate chapter will be up soon, sadness at ending but I hope it has been worthwhile! Thanks to all reviewers so far!**

**Enjoy**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

Amelia screamed as Constance fell to the floor and a nefarious laugh, one of triumph and pure malice, filled the air. She could feel the change, as though the room had become suddenly cold and all of the hope she had held on to were dragged from her aching heart. She held Mildred back as she tried to run to Constance, knowing that it was too dangerous for her to risk the life she had barely begun to lead despite her noble intentions.

A cool wind blew from nowhere, fierce and enraged with the unnatural power that blew from the underworld itself. The smell of burning was strong, the sound of fire and the pain it brought crackling in the air as the barrier between worlds fractured and crumbled around them.

Constance's eyes refused to respond, her arms heavy and useless at her sides; yet her mind was sharp. As the gates of what seemed like hell creaked open, her head became clear and the pain which had become part of her began to cease. She felt the weakness, the strain as dimensions bled into one another and the world began its descent into chaos. Constance cleared her mind and concentrated hard, using every last fibre of magic within her body and channelling it; she had no choice but to succeed.

Mildred's eyes stung as she braced herself against the harsh wind which played with her plaits and held her strong against the wall. She felt powerless, every spell she could think of trivial and useless in a battle she did not know how to fight against a danger she did not truly understand. She felt a duty to try and help as best she could, though she was frustrated that she could not do more. Mildred stood by, back pressed hard against the uneven stone, watching as the world she knew ended.

Suddenly, the wind died with a last feeble gush of air and the laughter grew quieter. Amelia looked at Constance, who was slowly rising to her feet, and rushed to help her.

'Constance!' she breathed, unable to hide her surprise. 'How did you...'

'There isn't time,' Constance warned in a hushed tone. 'Mildred will know what to do, I have to-'

'Distract me?' The slick voice from behind came dripping with amusement. 'I thought you were better than that Con.'

Amelia slipped back to Mildred trying not to draw attention to herself and whispered, attempting to mask the urgency of the question.

'Mildred, do you have any idea of a spell that we can use?' Mildred looked at her ashamedly. She had always felt that her meagre magic was incomparable to other witches and now, at a time when people needed her, she would fail them because of it.

'I don't know,' she admitted quietly, trying to wrack her brain; her mind seemed empty, as though everything she had ever learnt was a distant memory too far gone to truly grasp.

The idea was so simple that she scolded herself for not thinking of it immediately; as a witch she was clueless, but a simple figurative door would lead her to all of the answers. Mildred closed her eyes and concentrated hard, allowing her mind once again to leave her head and travel on a journey into another's.

Constance could feel Mildred's mind enter her own and suppressed a smile; for once, when everything was at stake, Mildred had done the right thing. She channelled her magic to disguise Mildred's presence in her head and to prevent her weakening body from succumbing to the pressure of harbouring another living consciousness in her own.

'You're barely standing,' her father taunted, circling her like a lion observing its prey. 'Stealing the magic from the transfer of power is just...well...cheating; and we both know that it won't last long.' Constance wanted to believe that it wasn't true, but she could already feel her grasp on the magic she had obtained as the worlds began to slip into each other slowly becoming slack.

'You always disappointed me, from the moment you were born,' he said seriously, 'how fitting that you should be here to witness my final victory after the failure I had with you.'

'The only decent thing you will ever do for me, Constance,' he spat, coming close to whisper the final words in her ear, his breath hot against her cheek, 'is die.'

She knew that he was just trying to get to her, yet the pain struck a chord and Constance had to fight not to retaliate until the time was right. She waited until her father backed away, turning so that they faced each other ready for the inevitable combat.

'Ready?' he asked mockingly.

'I always have been,' she replied and flexed her fingers to prepare them. Constance muttered the spell under her breath to emphasise its power, as did her father across from her. The streams of magic, hers a shimmering emerald green and his deep blood red, collided in mid-air. She had to step back from the sheer force at first, though regained her composure and stood fast against his onslaught. They were evenly matched, neither able to release the bond between them without the full force of the magic overpowering them, enough to kill either of one; it was all down to Mildred.

Xxx

Mildred searched through the hazy fog she was surrounded by. She could hear Miss Hardbroom waging war against her father to give her time and as they began to duel Mildred felt the force of the magic her potions mistress was using to try and keep her attacker at bay. At once, the fog cleared and she wandered through the darkness, searching for any scrap of hope she could find.

'Mildred...' the voice was less than a whisper, but it caught her attention. Images flashed before her, pages of books she had never read and the sound of chants and spells she did not know running through her mind. It was overpowering at first as information poured into her consciousness, but she could feel that she had no control and trusted Miss Hardbroom to do what was right; it was only now that she realised that she always had.

Everything stopped, an image of a haggard book before her and the words of a spell glowing brightly through the darkness. The words flowed through her mind, becoming ingrained in her memory until she knew the spell so completely it felt like the only thing that mattered.

Mildred made to leave, to return to her own body and to try to do what she had been asked; but as part of Miss Hardbroom, she could feel what she felt. She knew that her heart was failing, her magic draining from the effort of keeping the equilibrium constant which was the only thing that stood between the three of them and utter destruction. For a moment, Mildred thought of refusing to leave and offering her own meek reserves to help her potions mistress; but as part of Miss Hardbroom's mind, she knew that it was a noble gesture that would be in vain.

'Go,' the sound as soft as a lullaby, caressing the air with its gentle warmth. Mildred returned, gasping back into her body, and felt the door close for the very last time.

Xxx

'There's a spell,' breathed Mildred, 'but we don't have long'. She relayed the words to the headmistress and looked at her, as though seeking the assurance that she was right and that everything would work out for the best.

'I believe in you Mildred and I believe in Constance.' The thought of losing her deputy was so strong and painful that Amelia could not even hazard a glance as she felt the battle raging beside her. A voice in her head warned her,

_It could be the last time you see her alive_

But Amelia dismissed this, knowing that it would do Constance no good to give up on her. She was a capable witch, more so than herself, and she needed them to be strong. Mildred and Amelia began to chant softly, the words spiralling upwards and dancing in the air like butterflies. Once they had finished, both looked to the deputy headmistress and prayed that their spell would have an effect; it did, though not the one they were expecting.

Constance screamed, an ear splitting sound which cut through the air like a knife. Her hands fell to her sides and her eyes widened as the full force of her and her father's magic hit her squarely in the chest. She staggered back, swaying on the spot as she grappled for the wall to support her weakening frame. Her father simply laughed.

'Did you really think that would work?' Mildred looked mortified. How had she been so naive? Miss Hardbroom was gasping in pain, an agony which she could feel within her soul as the connection between them seemed to strengthen.

'He's here...' They all looked up and saw the silhouette of a large, muscular figure appear in smoke before them. The features were dulled, still a red haze against the dark shadows, though its outline threw back its head and laughed once more. The sound rang through the cavern, filling every atom with its power and malevolence as it fought its way into the mortal realm.

'Finally, he returns!' cried Constance's father, his face brightening with a greedy delight.

Amelia took Mildred into her arms and held her close. There was nothing that they could do. Everything had failed, and as the figure appeared more clearly through the smoke she knew that this was the end. Perhaps she had known since she had first learned of the demon, of its power and persistence, but the truth had been shielded by mindless optimism; there was no place for that now.

'I think the first to go, should be the girl who causes all of the problems,' smiled Constance's father looking at Mildred and raising his hands. He raised his hands at Constance, though did not need to cast a spell. Mildred gasped, a burning pain searing through her head and overpowering her body. She cried out, tears of agony forming in her eyes as she felt her skull explode from the power of the spell. She could feel it killing her, eating away at her power before it reached her soul and she was truly terrified, a rabbit caught in the headlights with no means of escape.

Constance looked at Mildred, and tears prickled in her eyes as she saw the pain she was in. There was no question of it, this had to end now. Waving her hand, she watched Mildred fall into the headmistress' arms, unconscious though safe in a caring embrace. Her father turned to her, confused and angry with a rage she had seen too many times before.

'What do you think you are doing?' Constance smiled, straightening up and facing her father for the last time.

'I am doing the only decent thing that I will ever do,' she said, echoing his words. She closed her eyes, drawing the energy from the power she had harnessed when the wave of magic had collided with her moments ago. Every last crackle of magic was drawn to her chest, where her heart beat slowly and surely against her ribs. She savoured the last breaths of air, the feel of it like a euphoria she had never learned to appreciate. Then she let go, allowing the magic to take over her body and course through her veins.

The figure appearing through the smoke let out a tumultuous cry of rage and vengeance as it disappeared, locked away for the final time amongst the never ending flames. With its last hold on the living world, the demon reached out with a large clawed hand and grabbed hold of him, the man who had brought him so close to victory and yet led him to fail, and pulled him screaming into the depths of the underworld.

Constance felt sorry for him, her pity through duty rather than raw emotion, though her eyes became heavy. As she finally and completely let go, everything was silent and she fell gracefully onto the cold stone floor for what would be the very last time.

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><p><strong>XD Hope you liked it and just a bit of a cliffhanger, bit more to come soon!<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Ok much awaited chapter after a little cliffhanger, though this was hard to get to the standard I would publish and I'm still not sure about parts of it.**

**Thanks so much to those who have reviewed and 1 more chapter to go after this, sadness I know! But I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

Mildred saw everything in slow motion, her eyes forced to watch every painstaking motion which played out before her. She felt as though there was no-one else but them, the rest of the world a distant memory fading in the darkness as the infinite mysteries, the unanswered questions to life itself, became pointless in an instant.

She saw, with horrifying clarity, the twist of Miss Hardbroom's anatomy as her body failed her once more. Her head tilted back as if she was looking to the heavens, her eyes closing with a finality which shook Mildred to her core. As she fell her face was a picture of serenity, the pale white skin not longer marred with contorts of pain or the sharpness of anger. The way her arms moved gracefully through the air had a celestial quality, an angel who gave everything and asked for nothing in return falling unjustly from grace; a martyr to morality.

Trying desperately to run to her, Mildred's limbs reacted too slowly as the rest of the world seemed to hold her back. Her memories haunted her in the moments which seemed to last forever as she watched her potions mistress fall. Every time she had cursed beneath her breath, every moment she had wished Miss Hardbroom ill; the thoughts born in the dark depths of bitterness, from another time eternities ago, weighed guiltily on her heart. She wanted to take it all back, desperate for redemption and the chance to put things right; watching her now, it was a chance she feared was slipping slowly from her grasp and she was powerless to stop it.

As Constance hit the ground, Mildred's body seemed to catch up with her fraught mind and she gasped in horror, her fear like ice coursing through her veins. She made to run, but the ground began to tremble and a low rumble of sound shook the air. Miss Cackle held her back as the walls seemed to crumble, rocks falling with great power to the floor which cracked beneath their feet. But Mildred could not tear her eyes from her potions teacher; through the clouds of dust rising like fog into the air and the shriek of rocks falling to the ground, she lay silent and motionless. Mildred fought in vain against the headmistress' grasp, tears blurring her eyes as she cried out for Miss Hardbroom.

Amelia held Mildred to her closely, trying to protect her as the cavern collapsed though not able to find a means of escaping. She too had seen Constance fall and ached to go to her, but she knew that she could never forgive herself if Mildred came to harm running to the fallen deputy; with chaos descending around them, she needed to think logically, though her heart defied her head and longed to run with Mildred to Constance's side.

As they braced themselves, the rumbles pervading the air like the deep growls of a predator and the ground shaking uncontrollably, Amelia didn't know what to do. Hopelessness was a feeling which was alien to her and as it invaded her mind and her thoughts her heart sank deep within her chest, seeming to beat rapidly in the pit of her stomach.

It was as though everything, for a moment, had stopped. The growls of the cavern were gone, leaving a complete silence in their wake. Amelia looked up to see nothing but a never ending darkness; she could not tell what was up or what was down, whether they were floating or falling and the emptiness sent shivers down her spine. The air was thick making it difficult to breathe and it seemed as if they were lost in nothingness, safe from the cavern but removed from reality: limbo.

Mildred clung to Miss Cackle, fearing that if she let go then she would disappear. The sheer impossibility of nothing, no light or sound or matter, was terrifying and she feared at that moment that they would be lost forever.

The feeling of falling, the sensation of air rushing through her hair and whistling in her ears, was bittersweet for Mildred. She nestled her head into Miss Cackle's chest, not daring to look around in fear of what she might see. Her terror was rewarded with the soft, wet ground beneath her feet. She stumbled, falling back and away from the headmistress but she could hear the joyous sounds of morning breaking. The birds sang and the wind brushed gently against her cheek as she opened her eyes to the euphoric sight of a burning red sky, the warmth of the sun in the air as it rose majestically above a bed of clouds.

For a fraction of a second, she could appreciate the feeling of fresh breath in her lungs and the smells of nature like a sweet perfume ensnaring her senses. If ever harmony was defined in life, it was this moment and it was only broken by the soft voice of her headmistress.

'Constance, please...' Mildred sat up abruptly, the beauty of her surroundings and the relief of her safety vanishing to her in a heartbeat. She saw Miss Hardbroom lying on her side, her long dark hair covering her face and Miss Cackle kneeling beside her with tears rolling steadily down her face. Mildred slipped as she tried to get up, her arm bending uncomfortably beneath her weight as she fell, though she did not notice the stab of pain.

When she finally scrambled to Miss Hardbroom's side, she leant over and instinctively rolled her onto her back, brushing the dark strands of hair from her face. It struck her how beautiful and soft her face was, the pale colour of perfect porcelain in her cheeks as though she was a delicate china doll too fragile to touch. Mildred wanted to cry, to weep and to scream to the heavens how unfair it all was; but she simply sat muted in her sadness and unable to fully comprehend what was happening.

Amelia took Constance's hand in hers, feeling frantically at her wrist for a pulse she would not find. Although she could not tell herself why, she knew that it was her fault and that she was the reason Constance was lying before them. It was her duty as headmistress to protect the school and all of those within its walls; it was a duty she felt, kneeling and sobbing softly in the winter leaves, that she had failed.

The cold, pale hand in Amelia's twitched, a movement so small yet so significant. Mildred looked up and felt hope, a beautiful and enlightening emotion, fill her chest as Miss Hardbroom's eyelids fluttered gently. She leaned in closer, whispering to her potions mistress,

'Miss? Miss Hardbroom, can you hear me?'

Constance opened her eyes and looked at the two faces, flushed with relief, staring down at her. She felt weak, as though all of her energy had been drained from her body, yet she felt no pain. She wondered if the spell she had cast had not worked and that they were still all in danger, but as she took a moment to listen to the slowing beat of her tired heart, she knew that she had simply been given a final chance; a chance, to say goodbye.

'Constance!' Amelia cried as the deputy headmistress opened her eyes to look at her, 'I thought...' She couldn't even bring herself to say it, the words too painful even to think about and too frighteningly imaginable to be uttered aloud.

'You brought us back,' said Mildred, a weak smile lighting up her tired face.

'I did,' whispered Constance weakly, trying to lift her head but finding herself unable to move.

'Is...is it gone?' asked Mildred cautiously, craving the assurance the they were safe.

'Yes Mildred, it's gone,' Constance replied with a feeble smile; she could feel her time running short, the life she had left within her seeping like blood from her body and her smile faded.

'But you're alright!' Amelia said brightly, wiping away the tears from her eyes and forcing a positive expression, 'I mean-'

It only took one look for Amelia to understand. Their eyes locked and terrible truths passed between them, the reality of the sacrifice she had truly made and the way that it had to end.

'No...no, you can't...' she was too shocked for words. Constance looked at her almost apologetically, and Amelia turned away to hide the tears that fell at the realisation.

'Miss, what's going on?' Mildred dared to ask, her voice barely a whisper as she feared the truth she would learn. She hoped desperately, with the uncompromised innocence of a child, that her fears were unfounded and that everything would be alright; though her heart told her otherwise. Constance took a deep breath; each was becoming more difficult than the last, as if a great weight was bearing down on her, but she fought on as she knew that she owed Mildred at least an explanation.

'Mildred, the demon was connected to this world through me; I gave it the power to exist in the mortal realm. We were bound through blood, my blood, and for it to be banished then the bond must be broken. I have to die, Mildred.' She said it with no fear in her tone, only acceptance.

Constance wondered if she had known, since the moment her dreams had turned to nightmares, that this was how it was going to end. She could dwell on the times she would not have, the days she would not live and how the sun would never rise for her again, though she knew that there was no point. This was the way that it had to be and she had long since accepted it.

'No,' said Mildred defiantly, 'no you can't die. It's not fair; this isn't how it is supposed to end. You saved us, you saved our lives and you shouldn't have to die for us as well.'

'Mildred,' Constance said softly.

'NO!' Mildred interrupted, her tone more forceful and the anger at such an injustice bubbling in her blood, 'you can't give up! You have to fight, fight for us; you never give in.' She felt the salty sting of tears in her eyes and cursed her own weakness.

'I have fought, Mildred, and I have lost,' Constance assured her, feeling her eyelids growing heavier, 'but I wouldn't have it any other way. You are safe, and that is enough for me to know that it is worth the price which must be paid.'

Mildred tried to be angry. She wanted to rage at Miss Hardbroom and scream at her until she got to her feet and shouted at her to be quiet, though she couldn't find the strength anymore. She couldn't quite believe it, how the woman she had once despised was dying for her, for them all, and she would give anything to stop it.

'Amelia,' Constance croaked. The headmistress turned back to her, her face streaked with tears and contorted with sadness.

'I'll never forgive you for this,' she said lightly, to which Constance smiled.

'I had to say thank you, for everything,' Amelia felt as if the world was crumbling around her, her life falling apart as she watched her closest friend dying before her. She could try, in vain, and spend her final moments with words of defiance or anger; but it seemed such a waste. She had given everything for them and in return, Amelia would give her the peace and dignity she deserved. With a trembling hand, she stroked the side of Constance's cheek and smiled with the adoration of a mother who was proud of her child and yearned never to let go.

Constance forced her lips to curl into a smile, though the effort of such a simple act seemed too much even for her. She coughed, tasting the bitter metallic tang of blood at the back of her throat which told her that it was time. She could feel the gentle ghostly touch of the hand of death on her shoulder and knew that she could not shy away; it was her time.

She had never imagined her own death; her mortality had never been something she had considered, though as her final hour came to its end she was not scared. Constance had always imagined dying to be a triumph of weakness over power, yet she felt stronger than she had in years. For the first time in her life her barriers were gone, the icy cage around her heart had melted. As she died, she realised that she had never felt more alive.

'Mildred...' she snapped her head at the call of her name, noticing how Miss Hardbroom's voice had lost any of the strength it had retained and was now more of a breath.

'I'm here,' Mildred replied, not knowing how to comfort her. Constance lifted her hand, a gesture which nearly forced her eyes to close though she begged for a few more seconds and was obliged. Mildred took her hand, feeling a warmth tingle through her arm as she did so; something not quite natural.

Constance smiled weakly and closed her eyes for the last time, the relief of finally being able to let go wonderous if sad; she didn't want to go, finally feeling as though she belonged, though she accepted her fate.

'I'm sorry,' she breathed, the last breath she would ever take which lingered for a moment in the air before vanishing into the ether, lost to the wind. Mildred screamed, tears tumbling from her eyes as she cried out in desperation. Amelia pulled her close and they sat, bodies entwined in a final comfort as Constance's body grew cold and lay, more peacefully than it ever had been in life.

The birds fell silent in respect, the burning sun a funeral pyre in the morning sky. Day broke, another morning which would come and go though never be forgotten and the wind died, the air still and solemn in mourning. The world stopped turning, a second of complete calm as nature grieved the passing of an angel. She gave her life for others so the world could live on, and it stopped in accordance and thanked her. Every bird sang a mournful tune, each lion bowed its head in prayer and every person took one moment of their day which they paid to her, who gave the greatest sacrifice of all for them though they would never know it.

She was gone.

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><p><strong>OK I may need to go into hiding for a while, though I would love to know what you thought *gets internet link up to secluded cave in the mountains*. Trust me I really do like HB, though it doesn't seem it with my fics XD<strong>

**Last chapter up soon **


	16. Chapter 16

**Apologies for the lateness, but firstly the reception from my hidden cave is not the best and secondly I had to get this chapter perfect for obvious reasons! Have rewritten it twice XD**

**Have to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed; Chrissiemusa, Aleksandra HB, Sammy 1257, fantasy and Chocomoon who have all been great! Special thanks to Lemondrop, Princess Sammi and NCD who have been amazing and who I owe a lot to and who the whole fic is dedicated to :) **

**Hopefully will go on to finish my other fic and write more, as long as people want me to. Thanks to everyone who has read this and I really should stop rambling now as this is the longest chapter already! :) Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

Davina's eyes snapped open, her heart beating rapidly against her chest as she was pulled into the waking world. Her wind chimes jangled gently in the window, touched by the breeze and singing like the morning birds. The sun had just begun to rise, the weak and feeble light cascading into the room and the fresh air of morning carrying an unusual chill; something was wrong.

Stepping from her bed, her feet were greeted by the soft wool of her Mongolian rug. The room was bright and vibrant, each wall splashed with colour and every surface covered with intriguing artefacts from the foreign lands to which she had travelled; each held a memory, a piece of the world she had visited brought back to eclipse the dull grey room with their exotic majesty.

To others they were strangers, intrusive and misplaced in a castle where they did not belong; but to Davina such things were a gateway to the worlds she had once known, an escape from the monotony of life and a refreshing change from the tedious nature of stone walls and endless routine. Being surrounded by objects of such unfamiliarity assured her that there was life beyond the castle, and reminded her every day that the world was never as simple as one perceived it to be.

Whilst pulling her tangle of wild hair into a loose knot at the back of her head, Davina found her glasses and perched them on her nose. She could see nothing out of the ordinary, another beginning to another ordinary day as the sun rose beyond the trees; yet something still felt different.

A strange gust of wind blew through the open window and circled the room, leaving havoc in its wake. Wooden men carved from the bark of ancient trees trembled and fell at the anarchic winds hand, papers flying helplessly through the air to land passively to the floor. It seemed to dance around Davina, stroking her cheek before dying as quickly as it had come leaving only a trail of destruction.

She had never felt anything like it, the sensation that nature itself was trying to talk to her and to tell her something. Her heart fluttered nervously, her hands quivering at her sides as she tried to find meaning or clarity in what she had seen. All she knew was that her mind was unsettled, the feeling of dread sitting uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach; it was a warning.

Xxx

Imogen walked swiftly along the baron corridor towards the staffroom, feeling the chill of the breaking dawn on her bare arms. She had dressed briskly, abandoning her usual morning run through the woods to try and find the illustrious chanting teacher. She did not know what had woken her; all that she remembered was waking early as the sun was rising with a vacant sense of urgency, her thoughts racing through her unclear mind too quickly for her to fully comprehend.

As she reached the door, she allowed her thoughts to flicker for a moment to Constance. Imogen had tried, with all the will that she could muster, to occupy her mind with other things since she had left with Mildred and the headmistress the previous evening. She dared now, for a moment, to wonder what had happened, the dark cloud under which they had left lingering now above her own head. So many questions had been left unanswered, and as morning played its tuneful song once more it seemed that only further questions would arise.

She shook every dark thought from the corners of her head, knowing that the time would come for everything to come to an end and then all would become clear. Speculation was her enemy, serving only to deepen concerns that could be unfounded and make her fear the worst; nothing was certain as long as she believed that anything was possible.

Xxx

As she heard the door open, Davina's head snapped up and apprehension gripped her heart for a moment. She could not help but believe that Constance would stride through the door, herself as she was before their lives were changed forever brimming with confidence and glowing with the power unrivalled in her domain; her heart sank as Imogen walked in.

'Could you not sleep either?' asked Davina kindly, forcing a meek smile. She was sat on one of the armchairs, her knees pulled close to her chest in the embrace of a child searching for comfort. Imogen shook her head and closed the door behind her.

'I don't know what it is,' she explained, 'I just...woke up.' An awkward silence fell as they pondered the question which both feared to ask though craved the answer to.

'God I hate waiting,' said Imogen impatiently, starting to pace across the room to keep herself occupied.

'We have no choice,' Davina sighed, resting her chin on her knees and staring absently at nothing in particular.

'I just...need to know that they are alright.'

Imogen knew too well why she yearned for such reassurance. The last time she had seen Constance, she had almost died before them, a ghost of her former self with skin so pale she would have blended into the winter's snow. She cursed herself for every time she had noticed the deputy headmistress' frailty and said nothing, simply to avoid the hassle of conflict. How often had she seen Constance lost in her thoughts, clearly in pain and distracted by what she now knew to be a terrible burden? How many times had she walked away, leaving an innocent woman in agony?

It was a selfish wish to want to quash the guilt which was eating away at her soul, though she felt more guilt that a woman she had never said so much as a kind word to had gone to fight for her, for them all, to keep them safe despite their dislike of her. An act purely selfless which, Imogen feared, would cost her dearly.

Xxx

Mildred did not know how long she had been crying for. It could have been hours or minutes, seconds or days; time didn't matter to her anymore, nothing did. The sun had risen, despite the grief which lived in the place where her heart had been, and the world had carried on regardless; everything passed, as the world waited for no-one.

She pulled away from the headmistress, staring at the lifeless body of a woman she had once hated and wishing that it had been her lying dead in Miss Hardbroom's place. Nothing seemed fair anymore. If a woman could bear the burden of hell for months, suffering and fighting to keep others safe, why was it that she had to die? Her kindness and bravery was rewarded with death, and for this Mildred no longer felt that she could trust the world in which she lived.

Mildred reached out a hand to touch her potion mistress', a final goodbye, though she watched in horror as a faint blue light surrounded Miss Hardbroom's body and she faded, like fog dispersing in the scorching heat of day, shimmering into nothingness leaving no trace of her ever being there on the forest ground.

'No!' Mildred cried out, digging her hands into the leaves where Miss Hardbroom had just been as though searching for her beneath them. Amelia placed a hand on Mildred's shoulder reassuringly.

'Mildred, it's alright-'

'No it isn't!' she shouted, 'where did she go?' Amelia took a deep breath; she had to try her best to keep composed for Mildred's sake. She had seen too much and been through more in the past hours than many would in their lifetime and she needed a calm, comforting hand; she didn't need to know that inside, beneath it all, Amelia was screaming.

'When a witch dies, there are certain rituals which need to take place,' explained Amelia gently. 'There is a group of wizards who take will her until...until the time at which she is buried, to prepare her and keep her safe.' The word funeral had caught in her throat, the mere principle of the word sickening. She had never thought that she would ever have to watch a friend die, not yet; it's a thought which never comes across one's mind until it is forced there by the tragedy of grief. It had felt so wrong, watching her fade away; a mother should never have to bury their child.

'Mildred...' Amelia reached to comfort Mildred again, though she pulled away and rose to her feet. She wiped fiercely at her eyes, tired of the tears which betrayed her feelings so freely, and shook her head so that her plaits danced through the air.

'We...we have to get back to the school,' Mildred said, her tone flat enough to hide her true emotions.

'Are you sure?' asked Miss Cackle, rising to stand beside her pupil.

'Yes,' replied Mildred decisively, and she began to walk through the trees in any direction, just wanting to get away from it all and to avoid the pitied look she knew that the headmistress would give to her. Escaping was, she knew, a coward's way out, but to her anything was better than endless grief which was the only other alternative; she had to escape, for otherwise she feared that she would drown in sorrow.

Xxx

Davina had been staring out of the window for over an hour, her eyes watching every inch of the land she could see like a hawk searching for its pray in hope of seeing Constance return with Amelia and Mildred. As she saw them, dots moving through the trees to Walker's Gate, her heart soared with the freedom and elation of a dove in flight.

'They're back!' she shrieked, her voice buzzing with the excitement and relief which had filled her body with adrenalin. Imogen looked up at her and smiled, both of them breaking into a run as they burst through the staffroom door.

They met in the courtyard, Davina attempting to catch her breath with her glasses askew on her face and Imogen jogging alongside.

'Mildred! You're alright,' Davina exclaimed thankfully, though Mildred simply walked straight past her without so much as a passing glance. She disappeared into the castle, running up to her room and locking the door; she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

Davina turned back to Amelia who was, she could see, struggling to keep herself together. Her eyes were swimming with tears and it was then that it dawned on her; where was Constance? The smile fell from her face like a star falling from heaven and leaving only misfortune and disparity in its wake. Her expression begged for answers that Amelia knew she had to give, though she did not know if she was ready; all she knew was that she owed them honesty, but it was an honesty which would break her heart to bequeath.

Imogen looked at the headmistress with a straight, expressionless face. Inside she was fighting a battle of emotions, her head trying to keep the barriers protecting her thoughts from crumbling as panic coursed through her veins; she desperately tried not to imagine the worst, for she did not know if she could handle such a terrible truth.

'Did you find him?' Imogen asked as the silence became unbearable, 'the person who had summoned that...whatever it was?' Amelia tried to speak, though her vision was tainted by flashes of memory which refused to leave her in peace. Seeing his face, a man who she did not even know by name, was enough to make her blood run cold and she shivered involuntarily at the mere memory of his heartless actions.

'Yes, we found him,' Amelia said quietly. She took a deep breath, hoping that her dear friends would be able to understand her pain when they knew the whole story.

'He was Constance's father; he had offered her as his sacrifice to the demon.' Davina gasped in horror; she couldn't begin to comprehend such a treacherous act. She did not know, nor would she ever understand, how a father could give his daughter away as payment as though she was his item to pass on as he wished.

Amelia went on,

'By the time we found him it was almost too late,' she explained, 'and we tried to fight him, but we were no match for his power. He unleashed the demon and Constance she...' The tears fell of their own accord, relishing the control they had over Amelia as they stained her cheeks with tracks of sadness. She took a deep, melancholy breath.

'She knew that the only way to banish the demon, to save us all, was for her to die.'

The words echoed, their meaning so profound that they held gravity to which everything else was drawn. Davina needed to hear no more, realising at once why Constance had not returned; she feared that she had known since the moment she had woken, knowing that something was wrong with the strange wind that blew.

She could not imagine life as it would be, without someone that although she had never truly known as a friend, had been an integral part of her life at the academy. Constance lived and breathed her work and, despite her strict and stoic nature, she loved the girls she taught each day. The castle was her home, the place where she belonged; now it was empty, as though part of it had died with her.

Davina had heard the words from Miss Cackle's own mouth, but they refused to sink in; she could not be dead, she simply couldn't. She dropped to her knees on the floor, the weight of such knowledge causing her to crumble, and she sobbed as she finally realised; Constance wasn't coming back.

Miss Cackle looked at Imogen, who was simply staring in awe. She wanted to know why, to find someone to blame and release her tumultuous anger upon that person until they begged forgiveness; it was a release she knew she would not find.

'We need to call a meeting, of the whole school,' the headmistress stated simply and Imogen nodded, running back towards the academy as she feared she might burst into tears in front of her colleagues. Amelia knelt down beside Davina, who despite her usual overreactions was simply sobbing in silence with her hands trembling in her lap. She put her arm around her, stroking her shoulder comfortingly as they both shared in a grief which neither would ever truly come to terms with.

An hour later, the girls sat in their pajamas in the hall, whispering and pointing to the vacant chair which sat morosely on the main stage. As Miss Cackle stood before the school, everyone fell silent; then, she told the story.

It was the tale, one which would never be forgotten, of a woman so many had misjudged. They had thought her cold, a heartless disciplinarian with nothing more to her than a harsh, bitter tone and a short temperament. As they heard how she had fought and died in their name, to save them, every girl shed tears she had not ever imagined she would allow to fall.

Miss Cackle held nothing back, feeling that she owed the truth to those who Constance had lived and died for and hoping that the students would realise what she had done for them. They hung on her every word, not able to look away even as tears stung their eyes. When she had finished, Amelia could see the guilt in many of their faces. They were thinking, she knew, of the last words they had said to the deputy headmistress, of the last time they had spoken or the last time they had uttered her name. At least now, she thought sadly, they do not remember her for who they saw her to be, but the person she had always been underneath, the true heart behind the mask of infallibility which fractured as she died. At least now, her memory was at peace.

Xxx

Days passed slowly, dragging from one to the next in a limbo of anguish and disbelief. It had been decided that the holidays would commence early as the school began to come to terms with what had happened, though every student stayed on at the castle until the day they all dreaded; the funeral of Constance Hardbroom. Miss Cackle took comfort in solitude, sitting in her office to make the preparations and to keep herself busy; it would keep her, she knew, from accepting the truth of what had happened.

On the morning before the funeral, Amelia walked into the staffroom and lit the fire with a flick of her wrist. Imogen and Davina were already there, talking quietly about nothing that really mattered; trivial conversation had become the only way to numb the pain of waiting.

'Would you like some tea, Amelia?' Davina asked, getting slowly to her feet. She nodded solemnly in reply, a feeble smile all she could muster as she took a seat beside the fireplace and felt its warmth surround her; it was a small comfort in a world which seemed filled with such sadness.

She flattened the skirt of the black dress she had chosen to wear, the colour of a mourning which had taken over every aspect of her life so completely. It had only recently struck her; she had seen Constance as her daughter, someone for her to watch over and protect with all of the love in her heart. She had never truly appreciated what she had until now, when it was gone and was lost to her forever, a grieving mother who had lost her child – now she was alone again.

'Has anyone seen Mildred lately?' Imogen asked.

'No,' Amelia replied morosely, 'I really do worry about her. She hasn't left her room since it happened and, although I don't blame her, she isn't doing herself any good. She won't even see her friends.'

'Have you tried to talk to her, Amelia?' inquired Imogen.

'Yes, but she won't listen to me. I think, on some level, that she blames me,' confessed Amelia. Davina dropped the cups she had been holding and turned swiftly towards the headmistress.

'You can't say that! None of this was your fault; I am sure that she doesn't blame you.'

'She has every right to. I should have stopped this earlier, before it got to the point where she had to give her life, and there was so much more that I could have done.' It was this fear that kept her awake at night, forcing her dreams to turn to nightmares of ways she could have saved her deputy. She had failed, and she knew it, though she didn't know how she would live with herself.

'You listen to me,' Davina said assertively, with such passion that all were startled, 'you can't live your life on what might have happened. Constance died because of her father, not because of you and if she was here then she would tell you the same thing.'

'But she isn't here,' snapped Amelia, her tone more bitter than it had ever been before. Davina was taken aback.

'I'm sorry Davina,' she apologised at once, 'I just...don't know what to do.' Davina's stance softened and she placed a hand on the headmistress' shoulder.

'Nor do I.'

Xxx

Mildred sat on her bed, stroking her cat absent-mindedly and staring blankly into space. Her mind was an endless fog: racing yet slow, full of anger yet emotionless all at once. Everyone had tried to reach her, but she felt so disconnected from them, from everything. She had listened to their endless pleas, their declarations of fear and worry for her sake; they meant nothing to her. The friends she had once held closer than family seemed now a million miles away as she sat in her room absorbed in her own thoughts.

The sun was setting on another day, whispering its final goodbyes as night took hold. Mildred thought of tomorrow, the day where she would have to stand in front of everyone as they buried Miss Hardbroom and of all the meaningless comforts they would give. She considered not going, simply staying in her room to try to deal with what had happened in her own way; yet even she knew that she wasn't coping.

She just couldn't understand why it had to end like this. She knew that the castle would mourn, for weeks or months, though in time and as generations passed Miss Hardbroom would be forgotten as her memory faded and she was lost; Mildred could never accept that. She didn't deserve death, as Mildred hadn't deserved to lose her and it simply wasn't fair.

From nowhere, Mildred felt impossibly tired. Slumber pulled her down into the chasm of dreams against her will, though she fought hard against it. She knew that it was not a natural feeling, that something was dragging her into sleep and she feared more than anything that the demon had returned; she didn't know what she would do if Miss Hardbroom had died for nothing.

Xxx

Her limbs felt heavy as she opened her eyes, finding herself lying on the bed with the window beside her bringing in a cool refreshing breeze; yet something was not right. No great amount of time had passed, she could tell, though bright sunlight flooded into the room and filled it with warmth. Mildred sat up abruptly, staring at the window, until she heard a gentle voice at her side.

'Mildred?' Her head jerked towards the soft sound she had heard and her mouth fell open in awe.

Miss Hardbroom was sitting in a chair at Mildred's bedside, a warm smile across her face; she was different from the woman Mildred had thought that she had come to know. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, a colour never seen before in her face and her expression was free from the stern anger which she had always harboured; she looked happy. Mildred had never, as she could recall, seen Miss Hardbroom truly happy, yet now the soft mellowed eyes which seemed to sparkle in the sunlight portrayed genuine contentment.

Her hair was loose, the dark waves sitting gently atop her shoulders and adorned with a simple white rose in full bloom. She wore a dress of the purest white silk, which rippled like water in the light and glowed with a pearly brightness which illuminated the entire room. She looked like an angel, everything about her emitting a light and feeling of warmth that was comforting yet unnatural, though Mildred had to be able to hope.

'Miss Hardbroom!' Mildred gasped, abandoning rational though and edging closer to her potions mistress, 'are you...' Constance shook her head gently and dismayed as she saw Mildred's face fall. She could not lie to pretend that she was something which she was not; she ought not to even have been there, but she had known that she had to come. She lifted Mildred's head with a finger, tilting her chin to meet her eyes.

'That does not mean that I am not here,' she said kindly. Mildred didn't understand. It seemed cruel to her that after everything she had been through, having already had to say goodbye, that her dreams would taunt her in this way. But everything felt so real, like no dream she had ever experienced, yet at the same time she knew this world was not real.

'How?' she asked simply, too struck by disbelief to form a clearer question.

'I could not leave knowing that you were still in pain Mildred,' Constance explained, 'you have barely left this room and have even denied those who care about you the chance to help.'

'I...I just needed time to be alone,' Mildred lied, her eyes not meeting Miss Hardbroom's. Constance sighed sadly, shaking her head. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard, breathing deeply.

'You feel guilt,' she said simply, before opening her eyes once more, 'what have you to be guilty about?' Mildred was, for a moment, lost for words. She could not deny that was what she was feeling, yet felt reluctant to spill her deepest fears.

Mildred felt her resolve crumble, the emotions she had kept bottled inside her for days flowing freely like a river bursting its banks and rising up.

'I...' she stuttered, tears welling in her eyes.

'It's my fault,' she whispered. She knew that the spell she had taken from Miss Hardbroom's mind, the one that she and Miss Cackle had performed, had not served its purpose. It was meant to stop him, to halt the demon in its tracks and to save them all; but it had failed...she had failed.

'You think that the spell did not work?' Constance asked, her voice soothing and inviting truth. Mildred nodded as the tears fell, her unbearable guilt weighing heavy on her heart.

'Mildred, what was the last thing that I said to you?' Mildred thought for a moment, and tried hard not to cry as she remembered the last time she had seen Miss Hardbroom alive.

'You...you told me that you were sorry,' she mumbled.

'I told you that I was sorry, because I could not, at that time, tell you the whole truth. The spell worked perfectly, just as I had planned it to.' Mildred simply looked at her, not able to understand what she was saying. Constance went on:

'I knew, right from the beginning, that I had to die, but I needed my father's power to enable me to close the rift between the two worlds and banish the demon. The spell gave me that power and allowed me to make the final exchange, my life for the safety of others; it was not your fault that I died, I was always going to. You helped me to save everyone, Mildred.'

She struggled to take in the true meaning of what Miss Hardbroom had just told her, though unstoppable anger rose within her as she began to understand.

'You knew all along, didn't you?' she shouted, standing up to look down on Miss Hardbroom as her heart pounded hard against her chest, 'from the moment we set off that night you planned how you were going to die.'

'You have every right to be angry,' Constance told her calmly. She could not help but feel terrible as Mildred's anger bubbled within her, her rage like an inextinguishable fire which burned relentlessly with violence and aggression; she could only hope that one day she would understand.

'No! You knew that you were going to die and you didn't even give us the chance to help you. Did you want to die? Were you relieved to get away from it all?' Constance could feel that it was her pain talking, her anger which said such spiteful words yet still they touched a nerve. There had been a time when she had thought such things, a dark moment when all hope seemed lost; but that was not who she was.

'No, I did not want to die,' Constance said softly, 'but I knew that there was nothing else to do; and there **was** nothing else that could be done. You have to believe me, you could not have saved me Mildred.'

Mildred's lip trembled as her anger melted away and she felt awful guilt for shouting at a woman who had given her so much,

'I could have tried,' she whispered.

It happened before she could stop it. Her legs buckled beneath her and she fell in a heap to the floor, wild sobs choking her every breath as she let everything go. Mildred felt warmth surrounding her and sensed that Miss Hardbroom's arm had slipped around her shoulders, pulling her close as she finally let her grief out from the prison where she had locked it away at the back of her mind.

Constance stroked Mildred's hair as she cried, knowing that although it did not seem it the child would finally be alright. She would cry and mourn, which touched her heart more than Mildred would ever know, but now she could move on without the misgiving that she was responsible. She wished that they had known each other better when they had been given the chance, but Constance believed that Mildred had known her at her best and with that she could leave contentedly.

Xxx

'Mildred I have to go,' Constance said reluctantly, after what seemed like hours had passed. Mildred turned to her, her eyes red and swollen from crying though her expression calmer. The hours she had been there felt like minutes, a moment in a sea of time, and she realised that this would be the final goodbye; she wished that she had spent it better.

'No, please,' she begged with the stubborn intensity of a young child 'don't go.' Constance smiled feebly and touched her cheek with a gentle finger.

'I have to,' she explained decisively, 'this is no more than a dream and I am afraid that I don't belong here anymore.'

'But...it feels so real.' Constance laughed, the sound like birds in the morning and Mildred noticed how it lit up her face in a way she had never seen. She was glad at least that she had seen the sort of person Miss Hardbroom was beneath it all; a woman who laughed and smiled, without the weight of the world on her shoulders.

'Mildred, whoever said that dreams can't be real?'

'I'm not ready,' Mildred confessed, 'I'm not ready for you to leave me.' Constance sighed; she would never be ready. Yet she felt herself being called back to the place where she now belonged, to rest for eternity at peace in the world beyond.

'Mildred, before I died I took your hand, do you remember?' Mildred nodded slowly.

'When a witch dies, she can pass on her magic; I gave mine to you.' Mildred was struck with awe which felt as though a brick had collided with her head. She could not believe that such a thing was possible, let alone that Miss Hardbroom would have chosen her to give her immense power to.

'I...I can't...' she stuttered.

'You can,' Constance assured her, smiling brightly. She decided to tell her, a truth she had not told a single soul and never would again impart.

'Mildred, I always thought that I would die alone. I had resigned myself to such a fate, and because of you and Amelia I did not. You were there, Mildred, and that was more than enough. You gave me something that I never dreamed of and I thank you deeply for that.'

'But...but it's your magic.'

'Yes, and I expect you to use it well,' Constance teased her, 'you have such potential, more than I gave you credit for I admit, and now you have the means to use it. I would ask you to make me proud, but I do not need to; you have already done so.

A single tear fell silently down her cheek as she bid the last farewell. She couldn't bring herself to say the word goodbye; it was too final, too definite for her to accept. She said it with a gentle kiss placed on Mildred's forehead, the last gesture she would ever give.

Xxx

Mildred woke with a start, the dream so vivid that she knew it had to be real. The tears were still wet on her cheeks and she felt them rise afresh at the memory of her last goodbye. Maud burst into the room, breathing heavily.

'Millie are you alright? We heard you shouting,' Maud asked, her face a picture of concern. Looking at her now, Mildred knew that what Miss Hardbroom had said was true. She had denied her friends, those who cared most about her, but now she could make it right. Mildred realised that all she wanted, was what she already had and what so many others would kill for; people who cared about her.

She ran to Maud and embraced her, the need for words lost in a simple act of friendship and comfort. Her tears soaked Maud's shoulders as they clung to each other, as though they could never let go.

Xxx

Dusk had settled across the castle and the woods surrounding it, a silence dawning in respect. The grave stone was marble, glistening in the last light of day and bearing the simple words,

_A woman to whom all is owed_

_The sun rises in her name_

_Never to be forgotten_

Every single girl at Cackle's Academy stood around the grave, dressed in black and holding flowers which they laid on the ground. Amelia was at the front, holding onto Davina's hand so that she did not fall to her knees and scream in despair. She couldn't imagine what life would be like, she didn't want to, but she knew that she had to go on for the girls and for herself. Amelia believed that she had to go on living, a gift bestowed to her that others did not have the chance to accept, and cherish every precious moment.

Constance was someone who made an impression on everyone she met. Many feared her, few had been close to her, though all respected her and that was the mark of an incredible woman. Women who had attended the school twenty years ago all gathered in their sorrow, the truth of who Miss Hardbroom really was a gift which none had expected to find. The world may never know what she had done, but Cackle's would never forget.

Mildred let the tears fall thick and fast, though to her it felt more like a commemoration than a goodbye. She had made a promise which she knew that she would honour, to become the witch Miss Hardbroom had given her the chance to be. It was a new beginning, a new horizon on which the sun would set though not a chance to forget, but a chance to remember and move on.

As darkness came, each witch lit a candle of the purest white wax. Amelia raised her hands and they all floated slowly into the air, rising above the trees until the dark sky was filled with light like a swarm of fireflies dancing in the gentle breeze; a sight wonderous to behold and the last memoriam.

The fire burned, a new hope in the air born from tragedy and a woman who would never be forgotten.

* * *

><p><strong>*Wiping tears of sadness as it all ends* Thanks everyone for reading! <strong>

**Would love to know what you thought, all comments welcome :)**


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